Phantasmagorical Temporal Displacement Situation
by tdg12
Summary: Are you kidding me? How lame am I that, even if this is a hallucination of sorts, I don't even get to be the main hero? I don't even know the rules of this place, why couldn't it be Harry Potter I got dumped in? Thedas is still new to me, and of course I happen to appear just as it's all about to fall apart due to, y'know, the big hole in the sky?
1. Fabulist

**Disclaimer:**

 _I don't own anything that you've seen before, just my OC that is probably a bad collaboration of every cliche in the book (so I doubt I even own her, not really) and stuff. Bioware is the owner, yadahh yadahh._

 _Also, this story will be primarily from first person point of view, the OC of mine, but it will jump to third person limited on occasion to give you the what happening four one one shit going on. Also, I suck at all things grammar and I'm terrible when it comes to tenses, like I switch writing from past to present to future tense three times in one sentence. So, forewarned. Also, I feel I can get away with that (mostly) because I am telling this story using my OC's voice and way of speaking. So if the sentence structure is abysmal and you're like why the hell is she stupid, it's because its supposed to be like the inside of her mind, inner jumble of thoughts that won't always make sense. Just felt the need to clarify that. Also, rated M for some major language, and hopefully future sexy stuff, and probably graphic violence if I can figure out how to write it. Also, my character loves alcohol but who doesn't when you're placed in her situation?_

* * *

 **Prologue (or would it be more like a Preface?)**

So here's what you need to know about me: I am a white (Caucasian, American mutt-face) female who has just turned twenty-two years old. I grew up below the Bible Belt of America, the south in a sea of red states (Republican for those who don't know the lingo) and if you didn't worship college football you were a social pariah and Nick Saban is God in all things college football related. That being said, I don't fit into most of those stereotypes.

I am not a church goer, haven't been into organized religion since I was able to make the choice not to go. So for the better part of the last decade I steered clear of all things churches. They give me mega anxiety. I don't know why, I just feel wrong sitting there listening to the old man rant about sinners and saints. My family went to a Church of Christ when we did go when I was younger. Both before and after the parents divorced (Dad's side was more strict in the church going aspect) I always loathed Wednesday nights and Sunday church days. I went to a predominately white church, although it has grown more diverse since I stopped attending, with the same family of old men preaching. After Sunday school you had to sit in the auditorium and listen and sit still and just be a porcelain doll basically. There were itchy dresses involved, afternoon naps between church services on Sundays, and smelly old people who knew I was one of my family's many, many relatives.

On Daddy's side, PawPaw was one of fifteen children, the eldest in fact, and MawMaw was the third out of ten. Each of those great aunts and uncles of mine had at least two to four children, each of those had at least three or five, and you get the picture of how large my family is. About eighty percent of that family stayed in the same county, if not the same state, although now that the 90's and Millennial generation are growing up that's changing. Don't as why my great grandparents had so many children. It was the 1920's and someone had to work the farm while there was only radio and books to entertain and most people couldn't read past a fourth grade education level. I say this in all seriousness too, although my MawMaw's side of the family was Poarch Creek Indian and cause a bit of a scandal when her full-blooded mom married a white man.

Now on Mom's side, Grandpa and Grandma had three kids with two making it to past the age of three. Grandpa was bad into drugs and ran with the Mafia/Mob down in Florida in the late sixties/early seventies and my grandmother ran away from a bad home to his arms when she was just thirteen (Grandpa was eighteen I think?). Grandma had Mom the day before her fifteenth birthday. Her two younger brothers happened some years after, and one died from some stomach disease I cannot remember (but it was the same problem that killed the little girl who played Carol-Anne in Poltergeist). My Uncle has five boys because he doesn't have the balls to create a girl and we don't really associate with him because he makes terrible life decisions and lives a few states away and nobody likes visiting (that goes both ways). Grandma has two sisters who each had a few kids, and Grandpa has a brother and sister and my tia (Aunt in Portuguese- Grandpa is an illegal immigrant from Portugal but I think he's a resident Alien now?) has two boys. Grandpa married again like sixteen years ago and had two more kids, my tia and tio, who are like fourteen and sixteen now? I don't know, we see them about every other year or so.

Oh, so that comes to me now. I am the second of four, older sister with two younger brothers. Parents divorced when I was seven, but had separated when I was five or six. Dad was a bipolar abusive alcoholic and Mom a paranoid schizophrenic with pathological liar tendencies. Mom remarried two years later to a Jehovah witness (who doesn't practice anymore) and Dad remarried when I was fifteen to a women he'd only known two weeks. Both are divorced again, for a plethora of reasons, and I have every belief in my mind that if they lost their memories and met each other they'd fall in love because they're perfect for each other and deserve each other (not in a fairy tale romantic kind of way but a karmic universe kind of way). I don't want to start rambling because you don't need to know much more about my family other than this: they are the reason I have separation anxiety issues and also the reason I want to just leave the world and never look back twice.

Me and my family never really got along. I felt like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit and it wasn't until college (when I met people who I genuinely like and like me for me) that I realized I didn't have to be stuck in a small town my whole life surrounded by people who didn't want to leave. I want to travel, to see the magic of the world and know what it's like to live somewhere else.

Of course, it would be kind of pathetic to say that I should've been more careful about what I wished for.

* * *

 ** _Need to know definitions:_**

phantasmagoric or _phantasmagorical_

 _[fan-taz-muh-gawr-ik, -gor-]_

 _adjective_

 _1\. having a fantastic or deceptive appearance, as something in a dream or created by the imagination._

 _2\. having the appearance of an optical illusion, especially one produced by a magic lantern._

 _3\. changing or shifting, as a scene made up of many elements._

* * *

There isn't even a way to _logically_ describe it, the situation I found myself in. The only words that came to my mind were blasphemous and _phantasmagorical_. And yeah, one of those words just might be more or less one of my own personal favorites that I feel will be a apt description of my situation. I don't suppose it makes sense in any way, shape, nor form you look at it. But what can I say? It's like that stupid bumper sticker logo: _shit happens._ Maybe that's what I'll name my memoirs or tell my biographers to title my biography. I'm sure Varric will like that.

Oh, yeah I said that. Go ahead and tell me your disbelief that I know (or have, at the very least, _met_ ) the rogue, merchant, storytelling, and occasionally tag-a-long dwarf. I thought I was dreaming too, but two months, three and a half days tell me otherwise. I know in "reality" when you dream it's really only like seven or so seconds per dream and there's like so many you have a night but really only remember one or two. Anyway, my point is even if I _am_ dreaming (which all signs point to no but the mind is an extremely fucked up thing, so who knows?) it has been a long ass dream and I don't think it would be as vivid as this is. I can _feel_ shit. And not just the jumping or free-falling sensations of regular dreams. Oh no, I get migraines, backaches, shin splints, burns, cuts, bruises, my eczema flared up again... I even got stabbed, but that's a different part of the story. Point is, I **bleed** dammit, and I feel it.

The only thing I haven't gotten has been my period, not that I am worried. It's probably due to stress, malnutrition, change of diet...oh yeah, and the phantasmagorical temporal displacement situation. At least, that's what I am calling it. It has a nice ring to it, no? I'm definitely telling Varric to make that the name of my book, or at the very least the title of the chapters in his next book. And I know he's writing one. After _Tale of the Champion,_ his next one about the Inquisition will be sold more times than the Bible did in my world.

Speaking of champion, I have to find a copy of that book. I have heard rumors, but I still haven't been able to pin-point if I am in a play-through of my own, or someone else's world entirely. Now there's a scary thought. I also need a reference book about the Hero of Fereldan, although that one will be easier to tell seeing as I heard Queen Anora being mentioned last week by Lady Josephine. And I talked to the requisitions officer...whats-her-face and she said she didn't believe Loghain deserved the brutal death he got by Warden Allistair but the Hero (I cannot remember her name) of Fereldan condoned it so it was all fine and dandy with everyone but her. Poor girl, she's got an unpopular opinion and I know she'll be moved to a different position once we reach Skyhold- that's something I _actually_ remember from the game. Anyway, I also learned she was a Dalish elf, mage, who seemed to be pretty upstanding and righteous as far as the rumors go. Still, I want to know the more concrete stuff. Did she spare the architect, who all did she recruit and what quests did she do or not do... And did she do the Dark Ritual with Morrigan? That one is pretty important. Wait...everyone is alive? (Not Loghain, but oh-well) So she must have!

I smile at this thought and clever (albeit late) powers of deduction I have. I really need to write all this down, but I can't risk anyone finding it. Dammit, why didn't I pay attention in Spanish I and II... Maybe I could've written it down if I knew a different language. I'll have to create some kind of code I guess. Not that it matters, everyone thinks I am a social pariah and nutcase anyways. The other help (read: slaves) wouldn't be able to read it anyways, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a place to write down my thoughts and the shit that's happened (or will happen).

"You damn nug-brained moron, watch where you're goin'! Worse than the bloody flat eared bitches..." I stumbled out of my thoughts by the loud cursing, causing me to drop the basket of freshly washed linens in the snow. I groaned and bent down to pick up the sheets and blankets. I ignored the mumbling elf, clearly he had better things to hurry up and do. I was in no rush. The day was twenty four hours no matter how you counted it. This particular _gentleman_ was the elf in charge of manual labor (like gathering wood, lifting heavy stuff, anything a poor defenseless elf woman couldn't do) elves and he hated me. Mainly because I wasn't submissive to him or his demands. He once threatened to whip me because I dropped a load of clean clothes in the mud and I stomped over the clothes and slapped him. I don't play abusive shit like that. Of course, I ended up restrained and I had to listen to Lady Josephine for like two hours go on about politics of slaves and how I needn't interfere since I was a human (albeit unpaid help here, so _slave_ ) and since they didn't know where exactly I came from, I wouldn't receive corporal punishment if I _misbehaved_ I would just get more shit to do, basically. Not that it mattered, I learned to keep my head down. I can't fuck things up even more than I have by just being here, who knows what will happen if I try and start something. Besides, the time of the elves are coming, just go ask our friendly neighborhood apostate and elven god, Solas, I'm _sure_ he will be more than happy to tell you of how he plans to destroy the veil and all that.

The wet cold seeping through my skirts brings me out of my thoughts. Have I mentioned I am extremely over my love of snow? No? Well let me tell you, I am. I used to enjoy the seasonal change and first falls of snow. The snowman, the snowball fights... It was every southerners dream to dance in the snow and then curl up in a fireplace. Who doesn't love a white Christmas. But, and I stress this, that's only fun and games for maybe two weeks not two months. And they tell me it will be like this for maybe four or five more. Who the fuck decided on the weather here?!

Like I said. I am over the snow, and no one here likes me (they all just **tolerate** me). That's why I was surprised when I saw another pair of hands holding the sheet I was folding. "Need some help?" A warm voice questioned and I felt a smile tug at my lips even though I was freezing, annoyed, and freezing. The hand and voice was connected to a man. His hands were gloved and he looked to be in some pretty hefty looking armor (a total warrior, if you know what I mean). He had a smile on his face that made mine even large. It was totally contagious. I just nodded at him and continued picking up my mess, glancing at him as he did the same.

He was handsome, okay? His hair was a wavy color of wheat, thriving in the fields before harvest. His eyes were a warm honey brown that set off a rumbly in my tumbly like Winnie the Pooh Bear for honey. His face was scruffy and he had a small smile on half his mouth, a friendly smirk that made me focus more on my task. He doesn't need me ogling him when he is just being nice, unlike most folks here. "Are you alright?" His voice was concerned and it made my heart ache at the sound. No one has spoken like that to me in ages.

I just nodded, scared my voice wouldn't work now that I was standing, my basket refilled and linens sorted away. He gave me a scrutinizing look and I felt naked even though I was wearing layers of clothes. "I haven't seen you around before, have I?" He asked, curiosity dancing on his beautiful face and my face went blank. Well, at least people were forgetting about my entrance.

"Been around." I croaked quietly, not wanting to trigger any meltdowns on my part or repulsion on his. Speech was hard, as I barely said two words most days and this cold didn't help my throat. I swallowed harshly, hoping this would end before I made a _complete_ fool of myself.

"Oh!" I heard him gasp and took a chance to look his way again. His face was awashed in shock and the scar on the right side of his lip was pulled in a straighter line. Man that had to have hurt. I saw recognition flutter across his features and felt my neck burn in embarrassment. He _remembered_. I blinked back the tears building in my eyes. Two things, okay? I _don't_ blush (never have til I got here) and I _don't_ cry like this. I mean, yeah I am human and cry occasionally but not as often as I have these past two months. You'd think I would've used all the water in my body up by now.

He cleared his throat and I stared at his feet as he shifted back and forth, clearly uncomfortable. Great, we were in the same boat. "Are you...alright?" He asked again but this time his voice was different. Concern was still there, but there was an undertone now. Suspicion?

I nodded, gathering all the willpower I had left and locked my gaze on his, determined to stand strong. " **Better**." I hurried past him to the cabin whose linen needed changing, leaving him in the snow with a look of confusion on his striking face.

The gossip was dying down, what with the new people coming in every day. No one was chattering about me much anymore, thank all that is holy. Everyone was too occupied by the new Knight-Enchanter, ballsy rogue elf, mysterious new Grey Warden, and the mercenary group that just signed on to pay much attention to me anymore. Well **good** , I don't mind being yesterday's news. It can stay that way.

I hurried to switch the bed sheets, not wanting to linger in this room. Replacing the old with the new, I tidied up the room. I enjoyed cleaning. Don't judge me, it just relaxed me. When everything was neat and organized, life was so much better. Everything had it's place, just so, and worked like a well oiled machine. I thrived when I was organizing chaos, which was an apt way to describe the small one roomed cabin.

"I just don't understand this." I shifted the papers into a neat pile and organized the potions cabinet by use: healing, regeneration, shielding tonics, and grenades. I was so caught up in my organizing I didn't hear the door open, but I felt a hand on my shoulder and screamed so loud I nearly dropped the pitch grenade I was holding. " **FUCK**!" So I couldn't control my tongue at all.

I heard laughter behind me and spun around fast. I was met with a tall, like a foot taller than I was, dark hair and dark skinned warrior currently covered in blood. Well, specks of blood. You know how they look after battle. I frowned, looking at the muddy (and bloody) steps he tracked in. Well, so much for leaving the room _clean_.

His brown eyes followed my gaze and then he stopped laughing. Ass. At least he had the nerve to look ashamed. Good, serves him right muddying up my clean floor. "Er...Sorry about that, I wanted to get these clothes off first thing. Venatori blood and guts does nothing for my complexion." He flashed me a (fucking _perfect_ ) smile, the lines in his lips creating (yet another) contagious smile that was paired with long dimples. Mother fucker, you're not allowed to look that devastatingly adorable while I am mad at you. His chestnut colored eyes were dancing with mirth (dear lord, I swear I do not talk like this, but if this is all made up in my head why the hell not) and he threw his two handed sword (which was like seventy percent my height and weight I am sure of it) on the bed and shrugged off his coat. He dumped it on the chair (which I had learned was his 'catch all' for his dirty clothes) and began to work the clasps on his armor.

I spun around quickly, not wanting to embarrass myself further today (I swear I am not a creep, I just haven't been this close to anyone other than slaves or workers in a long time). I distracted myself by finishing up my organizations. Everything had a place and I had to fix it so it would work how its supposed to or it will fall apart and nothing will work or-

"Thank you, you don't have to do that." His voice was deep and gave me chills as he brought me out of my musings. I turned to face him and swallowed hard. He was out of his armor, now carefully placed on the ground, and in nothing but linen pants that did _nothing_ for my imagination. And when I say nothing, I mean I did not even need to use my imagination to paint the rest of this statuesque picture.

I shrugged, lost for words. His skin was a similar chestnut color as his eyes, his face darkened by the sun, dirt, sweat, and blood. There were a few scars that littered his features, but by no means did they take away from the charm. I noticed two scar in particular. One cut from his right ear, skipping down his neck and down past his collar bone to stop above his left nipple. The other continued from just under his right pectoral muscle, slightly down his ribs, following his waist down, and disappearing beneath the linen pants he was wearing, in between his left hip and bellybutton. My mind landed in the gutter as I wondered how far this scar continued.

He raised a hand to the back of his head, lightly wiping off sweat and dirt from his head. His hair was cut to his scalp, little dots lining his face told me where his hairline was. He wasn't conventionally handsome, not like the blonde outside. No, if you took apart the bits and pieces of the man in front of me it wouldn't work (unlike the warrior who helped me before), but altogether he was a vision of strength. Not the burly strength, a rock and shield in battle (again like the other), but a decisive and lean strength that could cut through you like a hot knife to butter. He was tall, but I already said that. Well, I stood at maybe five foot three on a good day, and this man was a foot ahead of that. He wasn't wide, but his body was curved and lined with muscle. Well, I guess to be the warrior holding that large sword you had to be strong and sure or you'd lose a toe (at least).

"You're staring." He was forthright and his kind of honesty was hard to come by around here. He was still smiling, although this time it was more of a knowing smirk. I rolled my eyes and felt a smile grow on my face. Idiot.

"Don't let your ego inflate, I was wondering who was supposed to clean up this mess." I countered, rolling my eyes as I bent to pick up my basket. Some other poor soul could deal with his mess, I was on laundry duty today thank the maker (look at that, picking up the slang already). Although my back ached, my arms were drier than a desert, my eczema flaring up again, and hives dotting my hands due to the lavender used in the washing, I relished the hard work. After a long day of laundry and cleaning detail, I was assigned to the drying of the laundry, I found I was able to fall asleep faster at night. Of course, that didn't mean I stayed asleep.

The smirk grew to grin and he let out a light laugh, plopping on the bed to remove his boots. "Don't be like that." His voice was teasing and I was proud to say that I'd managed to lock my knees to keep standing tall.

"I am what I am, good sir, and I bid you good day. I've got laundry to do and it'll be dark soon and we need the sun to dry the clothes and sheets or else Lady Josephine will throw a fit if we-" I was cut off when he stood and placed a hand on my arm.

"Don't worry about the cleaning," He said this with an air of arrogance that could only stem from his noble upbringing. I glared at him. Far be it from me to be judgmental but I don't enjoy it when hard work went around unappreciated by the higher ups.

I narrowed my eyes and he only tried to charm me further with his damned dimpled smile. "I have laundry duty, and it won't dry itself." My voice is harsh and I am grateful for the stability of it, because my insides were churning like a storm. His hand on my forearm tingled and I attributed it to nothing more than my allergies. With my luck I was allergic to Venatori blood.

He was beauty and grace as he tried to coax the basket from my hands, but I held firm. "C'mon, love, don't look at me like that with those eyes of yours," well they certainly weren't anyone else eyes dammit, "you'll break my heart." His voice was soft as silk and I latched onto the anger I felt even though it was quickly fading. I _cannot_ let myself turn to mush just because some _pretty boy_ decided to be nice to me! I am not **weak**!

"Lemme go and I won't even have to look at you." I was surprised, again, at how I managed to keep my voice steady even as the walls I had were crumbly so quickly under this giant. The room was chilly and standing still only made the chill set in my bones. My skirt was damp due to the snow from earlier and I struggled to fight against the fever that started earlier in the day.

He knew it too, dammit. He knew just his effect on me and that only angered me further. "Are you cold?" By the tone of his voice I knew this surprised him, the chill of my body. It had to be around forty degrees Fahrenheit in his cabin and he just looked at me in confusion. "Where _are_ you from?" This wasn't the first time anyone has asked me a question like this, and I doubt it would be the last. So I just used the same answer I've been using since day one.

"A land in a place far, far away somewhere over the rainbow second star to the right and straight on til morning." I deadpanned. I was seriously getting tried of these kind of questions although I knew they were perfectly warranted given the current situation going on. I mean, if the situation were reversed I would want to know what the fuck was going on with the new kid too, y'know what I mean? Varric, of course, loved this story line and constantly asked me questions about myself whenever he saw me. I felt like this was some kind of cosmic payback for me abusing the dialogue options too much in the game.

His laughter was like a song (seriously though, I mean I love poetry and fluff but I will try to cut back...I'm just trying to paint a picture, okay?) and I rolled my eyes. "Sounds grand, take me sometime?" He quipped and here I rolled my eyes. He was never serious, that was probably why he got along so well with Varric. Not to mention he was a notorious flirt, I could see that from a mile a way. He was a bad a Dorian was and it made most the the females (and a few males) swoon around him. I, however, refused to fall victim to hi harem. I may have only been here a few months but I recognized the band most women used as bras around here, and I found one under his sheets as I was changing them.

He did manage to let my arm go and I would've been grateful had I not been a stupid klutz. You see, when he let me go I lost my center (knees were locked dammit) and the basket in my arm flew from my hands as I reached for something to stable myself. My hand caught his arm and my leg was caught by his as we stumbled (him backwards, me forwards) and landed on his bed in a heap of human limbs. Luckily, I managed to be on top of him and not his sword (which missed cutting through my calf by an inch). I may not be good at falling but I always stick the landing.

"Ow, are you trying to kill me?" I moaned, trying to get off him but his hands were firm around my waist.

"Please, the Herald isn't a murderer, love." His words were full of pompous annoyance and I rolled my eyes.

"Tell that to the Venatori," he laughed loudly at the comment and I felt the bed shake slightly. "Let me go." My neck was flushed with embarrassment and I struggled but was powerless against the giant under me. Damn him, I needed to get off. Butterflies were dancing in my stomach. It's been ages since I was in this position with anyone and my body was reacting against my will.

Here is a small thing you also should know about me: I enjoy sex. I know, burn me at the stake for being a sexually active young woman who will admit to the fact that orgasms are the best thing in the world and if you haven't had one I suggest you stop whatever you are doing and find your favorite way to achieve one and get yours too, boo. That being said, I had sex _one_ time in high school with _one_ person. It was a few months after I turned sixteen and the backseat of my first car and it was to one of my closest friends. I know, cliche but whatever. I initiated it because I wanted it to be with someone I trusted, cared for, and not someone who I was dating because (thanks to the divorce history of my family which is like maybe a seventy five percent divorce rate) I knew it was stupid for me to think I would be with one person for the rest of my life. Another thing about me, I talk about sex **a lot.** Like I will tell my life story to a stranger and my favorite positions to boot. I have no shame. I thought, for year and a half, that I couldn't enjoy sex because it was just ' _meh_ ' the first time I did it. I mean, I knew it wasn't supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows but honestly I thought it would be better than that! It wasn't until I had just turned twenty that I had my first orgasm and let me tell you it was fantastic. I'm not a whore though, at least not in the way I believe what a whore is. I have only slept with seven people, and granted I was only dating two the first time(s) we had sex, I wasn't cheating on anyone. I have been the other woman twice, but I swear on my life I did not know. Silly me for thinking if I was honest and upfront about sex the guy would be too. I mean, I don't think you should _have_ to be in a relationship to have sex, but at the same time you shouldn't go and fuck three guys in one day **carelessly**. The most important thing(s) is to make sure you are clean, safe, and comfortable. Everything else is not that important to me. Hey, judge me all you want, I will be up front and honest about it though.

"Stop wiggling." He laughed out his words and I felt the vibrations of his chest through my skirts and I bit my bottom lip to stop any noises from escaping. I am not weak. _I am not weak_! "Here," as easy as breathing, he sat up and held me bridal style as if I weighed nothing. Now I am not and lithe elf. I don't weight a hundred pounds, although I've lost considerable inches since coming here, I've maintained the muscle through hard work and chores. I was a good hundred and thirty five, maybe forty pound and here he was acting like I was a feather. Show off. He knows it too. I guess that could be attributed to him growing up rich and pampered. Sure, he's a fighter (two handed warrior to be exact) and has been in more than a few battles, but he wasn't war lorn. His face still had the smile of his youth and his eyes still full of laughter, unlike the blonde warrior in the snow. Complete opposites, you could describe the two. One was tall, the other shorter and sturdy. One had blonde hair, the other's hair grew black.

And yet both held such and allure I knew I needed to steer clear from.

"Thanks." I mutter as I move to stand on my own. I find my basket a few feet from the bed, most of the linens still in thankfully. I scrambled to pick up the few that had fallen out, eager to leave the chilly cabin. I was exiting the door when he finally said something.

"Careful, my dear, don't go around falling for any other man or you'll break my poor heart." The blush that had began to subside was back full force and I screeched an awkward laugh as I nearly ran from his room and back to the cabin where the slaves were doing the laundry. My heart was racing by the time I stopped and a cool sweat was falling down my back. I ran the whole way.

"Finally, where in the maker's name have you been?" I ignored the squawking of the head launderer and dumped my basked in the 'to be washed' pile. Most people were used to my lack of conversation and she paid no mind to me.

I ignored the other murmurs of the workers. It was, however, unusual for me to be late. I pride myself on being early, and therefore on time, to any and everything I do. I ran a hand at the back of my neck, trying to work out the stress I felt building up. "You're free to go if that was from the Herald's cabin." The Head Launderer, who was a plump middle aged Fereldan woman named Darla, brought me out of my thoughts and I nodded my head in thanks before rushing out of the humid cabin.

I glanced up at the sky, trying to estimate the time. By the looks of it, I had an hour or two of daylight left. Wow, I don't think I'd ever finished that early. Then again, we just received about ten or so refugees yesterday who volunteered their services so the slaves weren't quite as overworked as usual. My feet found their way towards the pub and I opened the door.

A few familiar faces, human slaves/refugees like myself, nodded towards me in recognition. I smiled back, preferring to drink alone these days. Of course, as soon as I make it towards the bar and barmaid I hear a very familiar voice shout across the small tavern.

"Fabulist! You're here!" I spin to see a ginger dwarf with a crooked nose and large grin on his face. Of course Varric is here, where else will he be. I feel like he only really likes me when he's got alcohol in his system, but then again I never see him outside the pub so it could just be that he's growing used to me. Fabulist is the name he gave me after I started answering his and everyone else questions in some sort of story (which everyone knew was more or less made up- even if it was with copy-written work from my world I'm sure those laws don't apply in alternate universes). And you know I was fangirling every time I heard it. Varric gave me a nickname! I smiled at him and sat down in the chair next to him. "Tell us a story from your world," He was already buzzed and I rolled my eyes at him.

"You buy and I will." I countered, eager for the release the ale gave me. Although I never enjoyed beer, the faster I drunk this stuff here the better I felt and if I drank enough I managed to go to bed and stay asleep. No nightmares.

Varric nodded his agreement and signaled Flissa to bring us a few rounds. I quickly downed half my ale, following my gulps with a grimace. "Nothing like piss to wash away the day." I mutter and Varric chuckled. My stomach warmed and my throat felt better. Nothing like alcohol to rid your worries. "Now, what do you want to hear today?" I asked, a smile dancing on my lips.

A few of the soldiers were seated around the table, eager for my story as well. Sera was sitting across from me, she by now knew and enjoyed my lavish tales, and a few of the Bulls Chargers, Krem included, turned their chairs to face me so they could better hear me. "Did the prince with the magic carpet ever marry his princess?" A female solder, who looked no more than seventeen, asked. She was a hopeless romantic and believed all of the stories I told were a part of the history of wherever the hell I came from. I smiled and nodded. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"But not before they found out his father was still alive, and dealt with the Forty Thieves." Varric looked intrigued now and I began telling the group everything I could remember about the movie. Aladdin was one of my favorites growing up. Of course, my version of the story was less Disney and more dark, and sexy of course. What can I say, sex sells!

Everyone around me listened to the story and it just seemed to flow from me with ease. Anything I couldn't exactly remember I made up (easy enough with the help of alcohol) and no one would tell me I was wrong because no one knew any of the fairy tales here.

I didn't notice the blonde and black haired warriors at the back of the room an hour and half later.

* * *

"You think any of that actually happened?" Cullen turned his head towards the herald, curious as to what exactly was the enigma of the girl Varric called Fabulist. He had been keeping an eye on her since they found her a little over two months ago (shortly after they found the herald). She seemed to have settled in her work easily, and kept her head down out of trouble. She was peculiar, if any word was able to describe her. Cullen couldn't quite put his finger on it. He rarely saw her talk, but he always heard from Varric or the soldiers about her stories she would tale. It wasn't until just last week that he started coming to the tavern. He told himself it was because he finally found a way to manage his schedule so he had time for a pint or two but in truth, he wanted to know what her deal was. She didn't cause a fuss, like Josephine was worried about. She worked hand in hand with the rest of the help, no trouble at all. She wasn't unaccustomed to hard work, or was a very good actress in covering it up.

His friend shrugged and down the rest of his ale. "Doubt it. She tells stories like Varric, some of it may have half a truth or two but one they don't add up to the whole lot of it." Theirry Trevelyan admitted to the commander. Theirry was unsure about her. She wasn't something he was used to dealing with, rejection. He was the eldest of three boys and three girls, the Trevelyan Heir, and was groomed for greatness at birth. All his life he was given what he wanted at a price. He had to be the best. He had to be the fastest, the strongest, the best strategist, the best leader for his family and for his people. It was the will of the Maker, his family told him often, that he was promised for greatness. So when the Conclave blew up and he received the mark on his hand he knew it to be true: he was destined to do something that would change the world. He thought it was simple: fix the breach/save the world. He recruited the templars because he trusted Cullen and Theirry didn't trust magic. Mage magic was what cause the breach in the veil and it was the will of Andraste and the Maker that the templars corrected the mage's abuse of magic. It was something he was taught his entire life and something he was prepared, more than any other person, to deal with.

Cullen nodded his agreement. "You're right, as always. You know, I don't think there's much magic where she's from." Cullen had been thinking about Fabulist for some time, since her arrival in fact, and judging on the way she reacted to mages and spells he felt she had little to no experience with it. She thought she had been loosing her mind when she first arrived but seemed to adjust as she settled in working among the rest of the volunteers.

Theirry nodded. "Almost right, mate, I think, where she is from...She was the only magic in that place." His voice was lacking its usual whimsy and was serious as he stood to leave. While Thierry enjoyed sarcasm and jokes, he knew when to be serious. "I'm turning in for the night. Madam wants me to kill some wyvern somewhere and Dorian needs my help with some shit so we're going to the Hinterlands in the morning." Theirry clapped hand on the back of Cullen's shoulder as a way of saying goodbye. Cullen was becoming a quick friend and trusted confidant to Theirry, which is why he often told him of his plans and asked for his advice. During war table meetings, if someone gave him a problem he often came up with four different solutions differing depending on which need was preference: the speed of the mission, the strength needed, the diplomacy needed, or the secrecy and nondisclosure needed. He knew the Inquisition's strengths and weaknesses better than anyone, perhaps even Leliana, and Theirry often wondered why Cullen didn't want to become the leader of the movement. It was clear he had a talented mind. Theirry knew, though, that Cullen liked being in charge, but not necessarily being in command of everything. Give me authority just not power, Cullen had told Theirry once. Theirry knew some people couldn't handle the weight of being solely responsible for everything.

"Dear lord, must you babysit and take care of their every whim? I thought you were the Herald of Andraste man!" Cullen taunted and Theirry gave him a light shove, causing Cullen to spill his drink slightly. Cullen was tipsy now after his two and half ales, and Theirry smiled at his older, if only by two years, friend. Cullen looked more at ease than Theirry had ever seen him.

"Walk her back to her bed. I heard some elf muttering about the fable making human giving him trouble. I don't want anything to happen." Theirry was all seriousness again and Cullen gave him a nod of assurance.

"I shall, sleep well." Cullen watched as Theirry sighed, taking in how haggard the man looked when he wasn't laughing. His eyes showed a deep need for sleep, his shoulders hunched in slight exhaustion. But he walked with a swagger that couldn't be taught. It was only something natural men and leaders came by. It was then Cullen knew, in his heart of hearts, that no matter what others said Theirry Trevelyan was their leader. He was the one who made the decision to recruit the Templar knights. He was the one who went and sough allies. He was their leader, unofficially now but Cullen wondered how long it would take before they were forced to pick someone to the their Inquisitor. Cullen had only told Cassandra and Leliana of his decision to stop lyrium, and he was curious as to what the herald would think of his decision, knowing how he felt about the Chantry and templars.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _I never do self insert type of stories, although this isn't technically me I am inserting. I do love self aware stories, they're a guilty pleasure of mine. I love reading them and so I've been mulling this over in my head for the past few weeks and finally decided to put it out there. My OC is a mess but she's my mess and I hope you enjoy the debauchery of her brain._

 _Here is hoping it shall amount to something!_


	2. I Am Not Weak

**_Author's Note:_**

 _So I had the best dream about this story last night and became inspired. I've got it outlined up so far, the plot and big events, until about Wicked Eye Wicked Hearts, and/or Here Lies the Abyss. Big stuff and big hopes for this story, as I've got everything I need to happen written down (which is way more than I've done for a story in a long time) and I'm so excited to see how people react and what people think of my little story. It may seem like just a funny little thing, but I've got plans and I hope readers stick around to see them play out._

 ** _Enjoy!_**

 ** _-teresa_**

* * *

 ** _Here's What You_** ** _Might_** ** _Need To Know:_**

 _I hate unwanted help, it's like you're trying to make me feel inferior and useless._

 _I hate abusive people._

 _I enjoy hard work when everyone is putting in the effort._

 _Alcohol is a crutch and I need it._

 _I hate the cold._

 _I have zero shame whatsoever._

 _I like driving people crazy._

 _Emotions. I have them. And use them. A lot._

 _It doesn't take a lot to get me tipsy but I hardly ever black out from drinking._

 _I am a firm believer in water. Something is wrong with you? Drink lots of water._

 _I don't do sickness. At all. I seldom get sick enough for it to matter. I pretend I'm not sick till I am ill._

 _I don't do medication._

 _I have such a high drug tolerance it scares me._

 _I love sex and having sex and I don't judge or discriminate those who do._

 _I am stubborn._

* * *

I don't do lies. As in, I hate lying. So the crap I awoke to this morning did nothing to help my mood. I don't know how I managed to get myself into these situations. I hate it. Knowing where I come from and what I know would be devastating to the Inquisition and I don't think I can handle that kind of weight on my shoulders. I am a support kind of person, not a straight up leader. I worked Shift Management at various places for years, but I never wanted anything more. Give me some control and power but _dear lord_ do **not** make me responsible for everyone and everything. I could handle a small squad of people under my command, I was section leader in high school for four years (I played the sousaphone/tuba) and my section ranged from six to thirteen people. I was drill sergeant for two years for the brass section, but I was one of six who would help marching about a hundred people. Needless to say, I am a pretty good leader, but not ultimate kind of power person. I always knew or could figure out what needed to be done and was either able to do it or find someone who had the power/ability to get it done.

That being said, it was getting harder to let stuff slide here. I already tried speaking up, especially within the first month here, about how things get done. Instead of having one person do a little bit of everything I suggested and assembly line sort of workforce. One group would gather wood, the other chop it, the other distribute wood to rooms and places. There was a group to gather/distribute laundry, one to wash, then the distributors would hang it up to dry. It had taken some convincing but the other volunteers and Chantry folk were starting to understand what I was talking about and it made everyone's work load a hundred times easier like this.

Now it was just a matter of seeing who could do what the best and fastest, but Rome wasn't built in a day and things were running smooth enough that I had to remind myself (especially when I saw someone who wasn't the best person for a certain job) that I wasn't in power and had no so. I was a peon, a lowly pawn in the system and nothing could change that.

It was an adjustment, that's for sure, but sometimes (times like this when I got off early because my job was done for the day) I relished the lack of authority. It wasn't my fault when people messed up. This brought a smile to my face as I started walking towards the stables. I enjoyed helping out here occasionally, I loved looking at the horses, harts, and other exotic mounts the inquisitor found. Horsemaster Dennet didn't mind my poking around, in fact he rarely noticed my presence. I like the anonymity I was given now. People weren't following me with their eyes much anymore.

I chugged more water from my animal (nug or some nug looking animal) skinned canteen, in desperate need for hydration. Fighting a fever _and_ a hangover was no joke. I avoided three our of the ten elven children running around camp. There weren't many children running around, and although I knew why, I hated that they were even here at all. But these people didn't realize the danger that was to be had any moment now. They didn't know that the evening the herald closed the rift with the templars, and thus the breach, it would bring Corypheus and all this infamy. I frowned, watching one girl struggling to keep up to her friends. She was the shortest, and probably youngest of the bunch.

"Wait! That's not fair! My legs are too short to run that fast." Her voice was whiny and I felt my heart lurch a bit. She probably wouldn't make it then, when the mages came. She would be among the first casualties. This thought angered me and I bit my tongue to keep myself from telling her to leave, while she still could. She was around eight years old, she could probably find the nearest Dalish clan and survive. I frowned...Since when did I give a damn about children, or strangers in general? I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I mean, slavery is wrong and I don't like it but sometimes it's better than the alternative, especially when the slaves are being treated with more kindness than most...right?

I stopped walking. No...slavery is bad. You cannot brainwash a person into thinking slavery is as good as it will get, that's terrible and abusive! As much as I hated fighting and conflict, slavery was not something I preferred. I suppose it had to do with the fact that I didn't grow up with slavery back in my world. I mean, I knew it was still a very much real thing, but with my modernized world slavery was like some bad fairy tale that would happen if you didn't eat all your veggies at dinner, or something that only happened in third world countries.

I resumed walking the road, taking in Haven and how much it had grown in the past two months. Any day now Corypheus would bring his hell and mages. I hoped at least half the people here would survive. I never really paid much attention to numbers in the games, always trying to save everyone, but I didn't let myself get close to anyone here yet. I couldn't, not if they didn't make it to Skyhold. I was already holding back the grief of the few people I loved back home that anything added to it might break me. And **I am not weak**.

"Give this to Scout Harding, she should be in The Fallow Mire by now. Trevelyan said he was heading there after his business in the Hinterlands finished up. We haven't heard from the scouts and Leliana is worried. Madame de Fer is on her way back, something about an injury in battle. The herald said send for The Iron Bull in her stead." A commanding (ha) voice gave his runner the orders and he was answered with a swift "Yes sir, right away." I turned to watch Cullen hand the scout a scroll of paper and him hurry off to fulfill his duty. I glared at the commander, remembering the audacity he had last night. _I am not a child._

As soon as the thought popped into my head, his caramel colored eyes found mine. I held his gaze, challenging him but not really knowing what I was challenging him about. Whatever it was, he kept his eyes on mine, refusing to back down. I raised an eyebrow. How would he feel if I treated him like a poor defenseless six year old girl?

Okay, so he's like seven inches taller than me, probably weighs at least fifty more pounds than me, has been training to be a warrior since he was like eight years old so he had twenty one years of experience on me. Granted, as far as he knew, I was defenseless. I mean, sure I could probably escape an attacker if I had luck on my side and my brain wasn't in panic mode, but I am _not_ a fighter. I knew how to shoot a gun, but those weren't exactly in the world I was living in at the moment. So I guess that's why I was even more angry at him. Not only was it the fact that he treated me like I needed the ( **unwanted** ) help he was offering, but he was _right_. I did, and _will_ continue to, need it. I can't leave Haven (hell, I can barely stay in Haven) by myself or I'd probably die from a rogue mage or Templar or Venatori or demon spawned from a rift, and those are just the supernatural things I have to worry about. That didn't account for the wildlife, the fauna (I tend to be allergic to stupid shit like **flowers and grass** ), and regular people that could hurt me. I mean, back in my world you had to worry about the law and there were cops who were supposed to protect regular people. Here...it was medieval times basically and I was just a lowly slave with no combat experience and not even enough time spent in this world to know left from right, so to speak.

So none of these facts helped any feelings I harbored towards the (brown-nosing) commander of the Inquisition. I don't know why he even bothered. Things around me were settling down. I think Leliana even told some of her spies to back off, not that I thought I was completely free from them but I knew there were significantly less spies tailing my every move. Why the fuck did Cullen think he had to babysit me? Especially when the tavern was like three hundred yards to the campsite I slept at. Lucky for me, I got my own tent, which some mage was kind enough to heat magically.

* * *

 _I left the cabin stumbling. I would've ended up in the snow if it weren't for a strong arm reaching out to save me. Bastard. I would've been fine landing in the snow, it's soft over here and it probably would've sobered me up a bit. I lost track after the tenth ale Varric shoved towards me._ _Not that it mattered. I was buzzed enough to tell stories and hopefully I would be able to sleep through the night, with no nightmares._

 _"Woah, you need help." Ass. I turned to glare at the sun-kissed blonde and my face darkened. I am not a damsel in distress and I do not need him saving me. I felt my previous jolly switch to anger and I relished the fire it gave me. I needed to use this emotion, I needed to feel and stay angry. It was so much easier than the alternative..._

 _"No." My voice was hard and I tried to yank my arm from his grasp. I was able to free my arm but not before tripping forward, only to have him grab my waist. My neck and face blushed with embarrassment and anger. He couldn't take a hint? I didn't bother struggling against him, I realize he wouldn't be letting me go any time soon. I huffed, twisting to start moving towards my camp area, with the rest of the slaves. If he was going to do this, we may as well hurry up and get there. I did not need him as an escort._

 _" Let me walk you towards your tent," his voice was soft, coaxing, and I fought to stay angry at him. Who the fuck did he think he was? Did I ask for his help? Did I want his help? No! I don't. I am not some helpless child who needed to hold someone's hand while I crossed the street. I snorted in angry disbelief, there weren't even cars here._

 _Cullen ignored me and continued to steer me towards the tents. He (thankfully) let go of my waist and managed to interlock our elbows, like I was a moron who didn't know where her camp setup is! I fed this anger, refusing to switch towards any different emotion. Remaining silent, I allowed myself to glance at him just once. He seemed lighter than usual. Most of these past few weeks he seemed hard, drained, and always busy. But tonight...Tonight he looked younger than I've ever seen him. He looked twenty nine years old and not like he's been fighting since birth. I found my anger fading. He must've been going through withdraw...A feeling I knew only too well. I looked away quickly, blinking back tears. I wondered what happened to him at the circle, and just how back Kirkwall was on him. Was it the exact copy of my game? Which play-through did he experience? None of them were really that good on his mental health, and I felt like he had the worst go of it in this reality. Of course he'd be damaged goods, I was a magnet for such people. Where's Fenris? Surely he can join this broken peoples parade._

 _I sighed, and he turned to look at me. "Tell me something about you. Do you have a wife, children?" So I knew the answer but I kept my gaze trained forward, refusing to meet his eyes. The last thing I needed was to melt under his beautiful gaze. I had to stay strong, **I am not weak.**_

 _He seemed taken aback by my sudden mood shift, and stumbled over his words. "Tell you...me? Why in Maker's name would you need to know that?" His confused statement shattered me. It wasn't often that people denied me, I was somewhat accustomed to getting what I want, a complete turn from my childhood but that's another sob story for a different drunk. Ever since I moved out of the house and on my own I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. I bristled, hardening against the cold...Yeah, that's why._

 _It hurt me, I'll admit, that he couldn't be open. I get it, I'm a virtual stranger, but everyone needs that shoulder to spill on and I was just... Actually, I'm not sure I expected him to answer me but the complete dismissal of my question stung. I guess it didn't matter, it's not like I was sharing all to the people of Thedas either... I shook my head, praying to a god I didn't believe in to keep my voice steady. "Don't know, just making conversation." I shrugged it off like I wasn't bothered and he seemed to accept this response and we walked most of the way in silence._

 _It wasn't until we passed into "slave territory" that a noise (other than the howling of the wind) was heard and I nearly jumped out of my skin. It felt like I was getting drunker by the second. The earth spun a little and I instinctively grabbed Cullen's arm a little tighter. "Fabulist?!" I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Jansen, an elven slave a few years older than I was. I suddenly giggled as he caught up to us, feeling ridiculous at the previous feeling of terror I felt when my nickname was yelled by the handsome elf. And boy was he handsome. It was like Allistair and Fenris had a baby and gave him black hair and all the muscles to lift everything. And sexy stuff too, y'know? Like he was made of sugar, and spice, and everything nice to touch and be touched by..._

 _"Alright, Fab?" He asked, his voice accented in that adorable elf lit that I loved so much better than my stupid southern twang._

 _I nodded, trying to pull my arm from Cullen. Jansen looked confused as to why I was connected to the commander in the first place. It wasn't often, if at all, a member of the inner circle came this close to the slave side of camp. I turned towards Cullen, smiling. "Thank you, oh chivalrous knight, for your valor and escort but I must bid you a-due, for I have found a more companionable...companion." I giggled as my words slurred. I'm not that drunk...Ha._

 _Jansen laughed with me while Cullen looked uncomfortable. No, he was too handsome for that. He looked...bashful? Sleepy? Not Happy or Doc...one of the other dwarves...Not Varric either! "I'll make sure she makes it to bed safely, Commander. Don't worry, she'll be safe in my arms." He winked his dark blue eyes at me and I may or may not have swooned._

 _Except I totally did. There. No denying it. He was such a gorgeous hunk of man that I felt my stomach flip at the prospect of being in his arms. Cullen cleared his throat and brought my mind back out of the gutter. "Right, thanks. I'll just be going now." Cullen didn't even say goodbye to me, the asshat. Of course. I was too busy stumbling into Jansen's arms to care. Right._

 _"Fab, how many did you have tonight?" This may or may not have been a current thing, me stumbling into camp in the dead of the night. Most of the hard labor slaves were up, drinking by the fire. They preferred the equal company and avoided the tavern like the plague. Some nights I would drink with them but they liked competing. Don't get me wrong, I am a fierce competitor, but some of these elves have been drinking longer than the twenty-two years I've been alive...Yeah, so they drank me under the table more than once but I still liked to hold my own. It's a pride thing._

 _I shrugged my answer. "Var-" oh shit here come the hiccups, "ric!" I hiccuped again and groaned. Hiccups shook my whole body and were so damn annoying. I hated them. Jansen laughed, taking my answer in stride. He knew the dwarf and our drinking habits well enough to know just how many, probably better than I did, I have drank._

 _Jansen lead me towards my tent and I smiled. I wouldn't consider him a friend, he only ever lead me safely to my tent and made sure I stayed out of trouble when I was drunk...I mean, that's friendly enough but he didn't talk to me when I was sober...or I didn't talk to him while sober? My brain was fuzzy and thinking about it hurt almost as much as these hiccups. "Why don't we talk more?" I asked and this caused him to chuckle again. Apparently I was a hilarious drunk. Duly noted._

 _"You ask me that every time you drink, especially when the dwarf is drinking with you." What? I did. I shook my head, now safe and warm in my tent. "No, I don't. I don't talk much to anyone." Insert hiccup here. "Sure, I tell stories, but" hiccup dammit, "I steer clear of everyone." I admitted as I sat on my bed roll and began unlacing my boots. I groaned, giving up and laying back down, now pouting. My hands and brain did not want to communicate tonight._

 _Jansen shrugged and began unlacing my boots. My hero and savior in pointy ears! "You say that when you're sober, that you can't get close to any of us, its easier this way." He said this statement so quickly I wondered if what he was saying was true. I pushed away everyone when I was sober? Why? That didn't make sense. I loved people, and attention, and people giving me attention like lovely Jansen was doing. He managed to free my feet but left my thick socks on, the saint that he was._

 _"I don't know what sober me has against you, or anyone who isn't Fennnnnnnnnn...Solas." Woah, caught myself that time. "But you're the sweetest and you're just so cute I could kiss you!" I sat up, hiccuping the last word out. He smiled, his teeth shining in the lantern light by his side on the floor._

 _"You're just drunk, Fab, get some sleep. Tomorrow we've got to go hunting but there may be a blizzard early in the morning, skies are looking bad so we have to gather all the loose camp sites and..." He was rambling all of the tasks we had tomorrow and I spaced. I was struggling to untie my dress. It was like a coat and had a few lines of thin rope intertwined across my chest that held it together and sheltered my underthings. It was too uncomfortable to sleep in. "Fab, are you listening?" He smiled knowingly at me and I smiled sheepishly back at him._

 _"No...Help?" I asked. He sighed, pulling at the ties and I felt relief as I shrugged off the dress. "You'll freeze if you just wear that dress to bed, I don't care what you say." Jansen asserted and I rolled my eyes. Relax, dude, it felt like it was a hundred degrees in here._

 _I shook my head, grabbing his hand and pressing it to my forehead. "No, do you feel how fuggin' hot it is in here?" I asked and he shook his head in disbelief._

 _"How is it you manage to be so warm in the snow?" He was curious and I shook my head again._

 _"I am freezing usually. My tent is just always really warm. I think a mage put a spell on it." I thought they did that for everyone, but I didn't say_ _this as he just stared at me like I'd grown three heads. Whatever. I didn't allow him to continue his train of thought as I cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth. "Stay with me, tonight? Sleep in here. I cannot handle..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish. I didn't want to tell him about the nightmares, what if they thought a demon was possessing me or something? Aren't dreams connected to the fade here?_

 _He opened his mouth, probably to say no, but I cut him off with my best puppy dog pout. He melted like snow on a fire. I grinned in triumph, tossing aside the blanket of my bedroll and scooting aside, allowing him room. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he took off his boots and lowered himself next to me. I grinned, glad for the extra protection against the night. "My hero," I mumbled, closing my eyes. The last thing I remembered was him laughing, and the feeling of him stroking my hair._

* * *

Oh shit, he was coming over here. I blinked quickly and hasted my walking pace to rush past him. I did not want to talk to him. He's already got a complex and I don't want to go about feeding it. "Fabulist!" He called out and suddenly I wondered if the only reason he, and most people, used Varric's nickname for me was because they'd forgotten my real name. I mean, granted my name wasn't the coolest of the world, but it was still mine name and everyone either forgot it or hated it they refused to use it.

Demeter Ophelia isn't exactly roll off your tongue material, but still! It was my name! I frowned, and didn't realized I stopped walking until Cullen placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you-" He began but I cut him off by spinning around with a glare.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence." I huffed out, annoyed that he was keeping tabs on me. I was still miffed at his blatant dismissal of my questions last night, although with a sober mind I saw reason- that doesn't mean I felt reasonable.

Cullen removed his hand and awkwardly scratched at the back of my neck. He was wearing full armor, like he usually did when he was outside during training and the workday, and I frowned. I didn't want to be this close to him right now. "Look, I don't think...What I mean to say is...I just was told to..." He huffed, unsure how to word his sentence and I saw the strain of a headache building on his face. I tried to ignore the sympathy to his pain building in my gut, but I wanted to help ease his pain in any way I could. "I wanted to say," What he wanted to say I never got the chance to hear because someone else was hollering my name.

"Fabulist, we need your help." I was taken aback by the desperation in Jansen's voice. He was sweaty, like he'd ran the entire way here from his position out hunting and I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. Whatever they needed me for, it was serious and I suddenly didn't know why but I had to help. I couldn't ignore the pained expression on his face, or the soft way he placed his arm on my forearm. No, I had to help. Damn him.

"Right, go see what you're needed for." Cullen suddenly became closed off, cold and professional and I wondered what snapped in him before Jansen began half dragging me towards the elf camp site. Whatever happened between us this morning was long forgotten and forgiven, it seemed.

"It's Dani, my sister. She's giving birth and I can't find anyone. The healer left on a scouting mission with the inquisition and there aren't any mages around. Everyone is scattered and you're the first person I thought of." His voice was heavy with anxiety and I started to run a little faster. "Sylaise help us, I don't think she'll survive the blood loss. Not in this weather, not with a storm coming." He was right. It was cold, the temperature dropping with the sun setting. I recognized the Evanuris god he was praying to, the Hearthkeeper in eleven lore. I guess she was the one who helped in domestic things like giving birth. Why Jansen thought of me, I had no idea but I didn't ask, not wanting to waver what little hope he had in me. I wanted to protect him, his sister, and the poor baby about to be born.

I heard the screaming before I reached the cabin (at least she wasn't in a tent). There were people rushing in and out, all looking younger and more worried than me. It seemed Jansen was the eldest one here, with his seventeen year old sister screaming in childbirth pain.

"Dani, I'm here. Where's Leo?" Dani screamed out an answer I couldn't decipher. Leo must've been the father? I wasn't sure.

"Right, you get water boiling, you find me some scissors or a small sharp knife- sterilize it with fire. I need blankets and cloths- as many as you can find me." I snapped into action, pulling every bit of home birth knowledge I had to front. I wasn't exactly a trained midwife, but I've been around more than enough animals giving birth at my PawPaw's farm to know, and two of my aunts gave birth like this and I helped in little ways. But Dani was bleeding...a lot. I wasn't sure she was supposed to bleed this much. I shook off any nausea and turned towards Jansen. I didn't want to do this, ask for help from the rest of the inquisition. The elven slave/workers tried to keep as far away and out of the way as they could. But everyone was desperate enough that I thought it was best.

"How long as she been pregnant?" I suddenly asked, aware of how tiny her belly was, even if she was a small teenage elf. Jansen shrugged, holding his sister's hand as she screamed from the pain.

"The healer said she shouldn't be ready for birth for another month." Shit. Not only was she probably very high risk, the damn baby was coming early. It was probably the magic and stress in the air.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. "Find Solas." I said calmly and Jansen froze. None of the elves like the member of the inner circle, and it's not hard to see why. The guy was an arrogant ass to them, looking down on them and their culture like they were dirt. Of course, it was half his fault he hated the elves so much, but the rest of the slaves didn't know that. I cut Jansen's retort off with a look. "Just find him and drag his bald ass here." I growled and grabbed a few of the healing and pain relieving potions on the bedside table and administered them to Dani as best I could. I knew there were a few you weren't supposed to mix and I tried my hardest to remember which herbs did what and...It was overwhelming but so far my instincts had yet to steer me wrong so I just went with my gut and did whatever it told me to.

Dani was mumbling incoherently, nearly asleep due to the exhausting pain wracking her body but she didn't pass out- for that I was thankful. Ten or so minutes later a very angry and worried Jansen arrived with a disgruntled Solas being pulled behind. "I am not some healer who will be held against-" He stopped short when he saw the young girl in pain. A mix of emotions passed his face, unknown to Jansen (who resumed his post at his sisters side) and a now quiet Dani.

"She needs help and you're all she's got." I said simply. I stepped towards him, ignoring the fear rising in my gut for challenging the powerful mage. It was stupid, reckless if not suicidal to go toe to toe with the Dread Wolf but I had to. I knew he wasn't nearly as powerful as when he (basically) broke the world, but he still was a mage and I was a defenseless human. Well, almost defenseless. "She'll die if she continues like this, you know it as well as I do, and the child will die with her." My voice was low, hardened by the bleak reality of the situation. I kept the anger at the forefront of my mind and heart, not allowing the anxiety and heartache of the situation break me. **I am not weak.**

Solas narrowed his gaze at me. "Why should I care that some slave may pass? Perhaps it was her time." The nonchalant of his tone tore at me and I wanted nothing more than to slap the now blank look on his face. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let her die, I couldn't let her die. Now that I knew of her pain, her unborn child struggling already in it's short life...I couldn't let it go.

"No, it is not. She's fighting, the child is fighting, and you're lying back like a beaten pup." My own voice was nearly foreign to me. I don't think I've ever been as angry as I was at that moment...He had healing capabilities and he refused to heal this poor girl because he didn't like her culture... _The culture he all but created due to his mistakes_? I shook my head, refusing to back down. "You'll help her." I ignored the now indignant expression on his face, cutting off what was sure to be more refusal to help the dying girl. "You'll help her and her unborn baby or so help me you'll live to regret it." I wasn't surprised to see the arrogant coolness now on his sharp face. He probably found the situation laughable. Mr. High and Mighty Fen'Harel being challenged by a lowly human who knew ' _nothing_ ' of him. I glared.

"And what should happen, if I refused?" I don't think it was about the magic he needed to perform. No, while Dani was laying in pain and Jansen worry grew by the minute, it was about **_pride_**. Of course it was, why wouldn't it be? Solas was a very proud man, so proud he ruined the world. So why would he help Dani out, now of all times? He had to conserve his power, his will, for the bigger picture. What was one slave elf, ignorant to the truths in the world, life compared to the restoration of the veil to the real world? To Solas, I suppose it was a number's game.

This realization brought about a fresh wave of anger and I knew I had to do it, consequences be damned. I sucked in a breath, pushing back all the other feelings and doubts rising in my gut and latched on to my anger and now hatred for this stupid and foolish man. All of my love for him and his heartache vanished, pushed to the very back of my mind as I painted this new, terrible picture of Solas, one Fen'Harel. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths to steady my voice and breathing. Then, in a voice low enough for only him to hear, I whispered harshly, "Then may the dread wolf take you and your plight back beyond the veil. Everything you hope to restore not even in this realm of possibility."

I could've died. I knew it too. Solas could've done a spell, any spell, and killed me. Or I could've been turned to stone at his mere whim (does he have access to that magic yet or is he still recuperating and too weak for that?). But I don't think Solas knew that, or at the very least thought about it. Because when I backed away from him, still glowering at him with as much hate as I could muster, he looked even paler than usual. Good, my bluff was working. He seemed to be analyzing me, unsure exactly what to make of me. I raised an eyebrow. "Help her." I demanded and held my breath while he seemed to be thinking.

I took it as a good sign that I wasn't dead by his hand. Then, after what felt like forever but in all actuality was only a minute he moved towards Dani, not speaking a word to me. Good, I didn't want to talk to him anyways. I saw his staff glow with magic and he closed his eyes, probably to hide the change in them.

Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the screams of a newborn and the cries of a new mother pierce the otherwise stagnant air. "Oh, he's okay." Jansen cleaned the baby up with the towels and water the others had brought (when did that happen?) and I helped get Dani clean. Jansen smiled at his sister, who looked alert even through the exhaustion that I knew had to be pulling at her. "A boy...Oh that's grand." She whimpered as she twisted, stretching out her arms to hold her son.

I smiled as I stepped back, watching the young mother and her now cooing child. He was small, not even four pounds but he was a fighter. "What shall your name be, my eager little boy?" She cooed at him and I bit my tongue to fight the tears building in my eyes. The air was heavy with emotion and it was then I realized Solas was gone, as was the other elves who were helping earlier. It was just Jansen, Dani and her son, and me left in the small cabin.

"He's a fighter, just like his uncle." Jansen said with pride in his voice, stroking the tuft of blonde hair on the newborns head. "He'll be a hunter too, like his father." Jansen told Dani and she cried with happiness. "He'll be so strong." Jansen promised and I turned away from the touching scene, fighting for control of my emotions. I can't believe it worked.

I hurried out the cabin into the night, thankful for the wind that dried my tears. I stayed like that for...I don't know how long. Just standing there, allowing the harsh wind to dry the tears on my face. "Thank you." A soft voice broke my statue-like state and a warm arm pulled me into a hug. I reacted immediately and wrapped my arms around Jansen's face, burring my face in his neck, breathing in the salt of sweat and tears. He smelled like a burning fire and I relished the sense of peace he gave me. The safety. "Sylaise walks with you, Fabulist." His voice was a whisper but the sentiment spoke to my heart and soul. He pulled me tighter and I didn't even care that I was struggling to breathe. The strength of his embrace tethered me and my emotions. "I don't know how to ever repay you, you saved my sister and Andrew." Andrew must be the name of the newborn. I smiled, thinking of Andruil, the goddess of the hunt.

"I didn't do anything except yell." My voice was weak and I shrugged as Jansen pulled back, holding my face with his hands. His gaze was strong.

"That mage wouldn't have helped if it weren't for you and you know it." He didn't let me argue with him, he just put a finger on my lips to shut me up before I could speak. This would've pissed me off if I wasn't suddenly aware of how strong his hand was and how intense his olive green eyes were. I didn't say anything, in fear that he would leave me by myself. I didn't want to be alone. Not now, not with all these emotions rising to the surface. "You're...amazing, unlike the other shem." His backhanded compliment struck me and I couldn't feel angry, knowing the sentiment of his words. I backed away, smiling softly.

I shrugged, not wanting to speak until I was sure my voice would be steady. Clearing my throat, I met his gaze. "I dunno." I admitted and turned to head back to camp. Keeping all the swirls of emotions locked away was getting difficult. Three children rushed past me, playing as an adult shouted at them to help pack up camp. The storm was getting closer and the wind grew stronger by the moment. But the cold wasn't bothering me today, not with all the emotions weighing me down to keep me warm.

The sky darkened with nightfall and I made it to where the others were packing up the tent and any potential fly away stuff. "Yours is the last tent that needs to be packed, we're heading to cabins or the chantry to shelter of the storm." An elf told me in passing as he headed up the path to the tall building. I nodded and began disassembling my tent, something I was quite adept at with all the practice due to the occasional snow storm that would blow through Haven. I put the pieces on the cart that held the tents and was being pulled up the path. All I had left, all I owned of this world, was a spare pair of boots, an extra outfit and coat, and my bedroll which were all packed in my leather bag and pulled on my shoulders.

I walked slowly towards the cabins, not wanting to go anywhere near the chantry. Even in this reality, I didn't like churches all that much.

I nearly screamed when I felt a hand on my shoulder stop me from walking any further. "Demeter," my first and real name felt foreign on his tongue and I looked at Jansen, confused. No one called me by my first name here...I'm sure not many of them even knew what it was. "Can we talk?" He asked and I could only respond with a nod. He led me towards the closest cabin, which was a spare building used for storing leathers. He seemed to think that this cabin would be sufficient and he locked the door to prevent it from being blown open by the strong wind.

"I wanted to thank you for saving Dani. You didn't have to and I don't know what you said to that mage but you saved my sister and Andrew." I smiled at the newborns name, thinking of Andruil the goddess of the hunt. It could be a perfect name for him. Jansen pulled me into a hug again and I melted. I didn't want to enjoy this contact, as I hated hugs and I knew I shouldn't get close to anyone at Haven. They could all be gone in less than a month. The thought made me angry and I held Jansen tighter. No, not him. He was strong, a fighter, he would make it to Skyhold, I was sure of it.

"I...if I lost Dani don't..." His voice cracked and I buried my face in his neck, not wanting to see the pain on his face that I heard in his voice. His confession broke my walls and I kissed his neck softly. His hands held my waist tightly and I placed another hesitant kiss slightly higher than the previous. I felt warm, warmer than usual, in his arms and the heat emboldened me. Jansen pulled back and I looked away, no wanting to see the rejection on his face I knew would be all over his oh so beautifully crafted skin.

"Demeter..." His voice was different. Stronger, more sure, than it was a few moments ago. I chanced a glance at him and smiled when I saw the smile stretch across his full lips. "You're so..." He didn't finish, instead he bent down to connect his lips to mine.

It has been months, ages, eons even since I felt someone else's lips on mine. Even longer still that I felt the electrifying butterflies in my stomach due to the feeling of a kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I met his kiss with a kiss of my own, pulling him to me. All thoughts of Corypheus, Haven's demise, the Inquisition, and even the brewing storm were pushed to the back of my mind as Jansen shifted his hands to my hips. I backed up until I was against the wall, held there only by the power of Jansen and his kiss. I knew I should stop, the small rationale I had left of my brain was screaming klaxxon warning alerts that I should leave and not get close to Jansen or anyone else. I couldn't care about anyone, not until at least Skyhold...

But in that moment I was free. Free from the worry of other's survival, free from the stress knowing the possible futures, and free from any other emotion besides the lust and power of wanting and being wanted by another.


	3. A Sign From The Maker

**_Author's Note:_**

 _I hope people stick by me with this. Now that I've got this story mapped out I'm so ready to have it typed out! I recently started working full time again so there goes most of my free time, so I'm trying to dedicated a few minutes or hours a night to typing away at this. Hopefully it will entertain you as it has me. I have a few ideas playing out how I want this story to go, but right now we're sticking to the game's main plot line and canon. That being said, it's probably going to end as the game does at the end of Trespasser, but there will be several OC plot lines and additions to the plot!_

 _Now, on with the story!_

 _-teresa_

* * *

Heaven. Or whatever the equivalent is here. The Fade? The Black City... _before_ it was black? Golden City, right? I suppose that depends on your belief system here. I'm not quite sure about it and the lore of Thedas isn't exactly on the forefront of my mind these days, not to mention it's not like I have the wiki I can just pull up on my smart phone.

Damn...I haven't realized how much I miss my phone. Although I hardly used it for communication, any time I didn't know something I had access to the answer in my hands. I could research it and find out what the answer was in under a minute. I think I took it for granted. If I want to know something here that I can't just ask someone I have to find a book that may not even exist.

Wait...do they have technology in Thedas? Could I invent electricity? Or like hydro power? Do the whole Benjamin Franklin and his kite with a key on the string? Or would electricity not work here, due to all the magic in the air? That's how JKR described Hogwarts...Fuck, I swear I got dropped into the wrong world because I am like a walking Harry Potter wiki. The Dragon Age Fandom is a new one to me, I only just started playing all the games like 3 or 4 years ago and I wasn't interested enough to read into the lore of most of the games, but I did like Inquisition enough and with the whole Solas _asshat_ Dread Wolf thing going on that I decided to start actually looking up information and even fan theories about the old gods and stuff. I mean, if some part of Mythal is still alive why can't the other gods have a link somewhere on Thedas...Like the theory that Sera is Andruil (or at least I think that's the god...dess? it's one of them I am not a hundred percent on the details).

But enough of the shit going on in my head, that's the most I have even thought about anything _remotely_ important lately. You see, for the first time since waking up with no memory of how I got here, I am happy. That's not to say there isn't the usual anxiety from being in what is (or at least was to _me_ ) a video game world, but the past week and a half has been amazing. The slaves are happy (as usual when there is a new born baby around) and Theirry Trevelyan is recruiting so many new people they're just appearing more and more every day. Word is spreading about the breach and the Inquisition and I know it'll only grow bigger.

Jansen is a wonderfully amazingly handsome distraction. I haven't spent a night without him and I can honestly say I haven't been this happy in a long time. I mean, I still get the nightmares...but I wake up and Jansen is holding me and I forget them after a few minutes. He kisses away my fears and I feel like some sappy lovesick schoolgirl who is at the peak of her romantic comedy. Jansen is ever such a pleaser, always wanting to help and never asking for anything in return. He gives and I can't help but to feel guilty about it, like he's giving me everything while I'm holding back all my secrets...but then he kisses me and hands me a drink and I forget the world isn't my own and Corypheus is out there plotting.

So far, things have been going quite well. I have been avoiding Cullen...well, I haven't gone out of my way to spend time with him or any other major inner circle characters. I know Varric has been asking about me in the tavern (I've been drinking with the elves every night instead too-that way I won't have need for Cullen's escort service) and I will probably have to face them soon but right now I am in my own little world. I felt so at home with the elves. Most of the old cranky men have even stopped calling me _'that Shem bitch'_ and now refer to me as _Fabulist Shem_ or _'the only Shem I'd share my ale with'_ and I found I liked their approval. It worked.

Hard work for long hours, and then drinking with fellow hard workers I was able to stop thinking about the doom in this world. At least, I was for a while. In the middle of the night, while Jansen was off hunting or something late with the others, I lay in my tent trying and failing to fall asleep. I long for the distraction of Jansen and his soft lips. He was so eager to please and such a kind heart that I tried so hard to forget the future I knew would happen soon. A week more goes by and Jansen is nowhere along with the rest of the hunters. I knew they were probably searching farther for food, as supplies was running thin with more and more people coming every day. Still, I longed for the comfort of his touch and fought sleep (well, the nightmares that took over said sleep) and it took hours but finally I was able to fall into a fitful sleep full of dreams about dark nothingness eyeballs in pitch black, and Sera running around yelling for breeches...

* * *

"Wake up, love, I've got something to show you!" I heard an eager voice shake me awake and I rolled over, begging for the sleep that was leaving me to return. I _seriously_ just fell asleep, what did I do to deserve it leaving me? I squealed as a rush of cold air hit my skin, my blanket ripped from my grasp. " _ **ASS**_!" I grumbled, yawning as I stretched out my limbs, no use fighting Jansen this soon after waking. He was alert and wide awake, the smug bastard. He grinned, his blue eyes shinning...or where they green? I couldn't tell at the moment. Sometimes they were so shockingly blue, others a mesmerizing green. Or perhaps I _am_ loosing my mind. That seemed to be the likely scenario these days. He squinted his eyes, and never more did he look exactly like Chad Micheal Murray. Ladies, you cannot blame me for my attraction to him now, can you? He definitely had the smolder going on, and damn could he smolder. Right up there with Ian Somerhalder and David Boreanaz vampire smoldering...swooning fangirl here...

"Alright, if you don't want to be surprised I guess you can just stay in bed..." He trailed off teasingly, his hand scratching his scruff and I wanted to kiss him but I had an act to finish. He couldn't know how badly he was affecting me, it wasn't fair! I huffed as I sat up, crossing my chest in mock anger. "Just let me get dressed or else the whole camp will see me half naked and I'm sure you wouldn't want that." I smirked as his face darkened at the thought.

Jansen shook his head, a territorial look ghosting across his mouth and sharp chin. He quickly pulled me in his arms, holding me tight against him. I squealed again, not expecting his sudden reaction. He didn't say anything, just held me as close as he could. I didn't say anything, nothing felt right. Never has anyone been so possessive over me, not even a little bit. No one I dated cared whether or not others saw me _indecent_ or otherwise. They would show me off instead, a way of saying look what fish I caught... Jansen wanted to protect me from others, he told me time and time again as much...I guess a part of me doubted him even though I had no reason to. I pulled away slowly, fighting the anxiety rising up in my stomach. It's a rare thing that I let myself get attached to a person like this, nor do I ever let them get this attached to me. It was hard for me to think straight so I turned away and started to get dressed.

"Wear some pants," Jansen said softly and I nodded, reaching for the leather tights he held out to me.

Did I deserve someone so caring? Someone who put my own needs before his? What was I supposed to do in turn? I haven't actually seen a functional relationship. Everyone in my family were either divorced or should be divorced. Coming from a history of shot gun weddings I guess that's not surprising, but still... _What_ did you do in a relationship to make it work? What _is_ making it work? How do I know if we're doing the right things? What am I supposed to do in a situation like this? In any situation? When it all came down to it I didn't know a damn thing, and I was comfortable just going with the flow except for moments like this. They terrified me. Jansen and I didn't talk feelings or whatever...we haven't claimed each other in that way or whatever it is people did in this world. We were having fun...right?

When it came to the sex thing I knew or was totally down to try anything at least once just to know for sure, maybe a second time with the right person...but relationships...they are a whole nother story. I pushed these thoughts from my head as I wrapped the bra band around my chest, not even asking for the help Jansen knew I needed with the contraption, he was already at my back tying the strings. "I hate these things." My voice was a soft whisper and Jansen gave a breathy laugh that sent shivers down my spine as his warm breath hit the nape of my neck. It's was like two bra things in one.

There was this leather strappy thing that held my breast up, and underneath that it was this thing cloth that was corset like tied in the back to cover the nips. I mean, it had good support but there were so many ties and loops that, more often than not, I didn't wear one or the other unless Jansen was there to help me dress. Of course, once I told him that he was there every time I needed him. Though I doubt he did this solely out of the kindness of his heart.

After I finally managed to strap on my boots, I stood waiting for Jansen to lead the way to his surprise. He grinned as he handed me a warm cloak. "You're gonna love this, I have Darla covering your laundry and John is covering me in the woods, meaning we have the whole day to ourselves." He grabbed a bow and arrow from his tent on the way to where we were going. His excitement was contagious and I was surprised he convinced Darla to let me go free, but this was _Jansen_ , everyone loved the smooth talking elf. He was kind and sincere and a hard worker. I often wanted to ask him about his past, before he became entangled with the Inquisition, but as he never asked about mine I let the desire to know slide. We know the basics about each other, and I knew his sister and new nephew...perhaps that is enough. After all, there's no way I could even begin to explain the differences in how we grew up. He probably grew up in slavery and worked like a dog all his life while I went to mandatory school and there were such things as child labor laws and a government that regulated shit like that. Not to mention the technological boom and how we went from no phones to hand held computers in like a hundred years...

No, it was definitely better this way. "Almost there," Jansen was leading me somewhere in the forest, I was currently trying to keep my eyes closed but the struggle of walking blind was tempting me to take a peak. If it weren't the absolute excitement in Jansen's eyes earlier when he whisked me away or the childlike pull of my hand in his, I would've already opened my eyes. It was rarely, if ever, that I let someone surprise me. I hate surprises, as most of the time they're no good and people suck at lying in the first place. I allowed Jansen to pull me for another ten or so minutes, ignoring the wind slapping my face or the fact that I forgot to braid my hair back so that too was slapping my wind chapped cheeks. But I held back my complaints, as Jansen's promised it would be worth it. Finally Jansen slowed his pace and came to a stop.

He pulled me down and we were sitting, on a blanket I assumed as it was soft but not cold like snow, and he said I could open my eyes. At first I was startled, the sight was pretty, yeah, but this was it? A frozen waterfall wasn't uncommon around Haven so I tried not to look confused or disappointed. Sensing my confusing, Jansen laughed and directed my attention to the ground in front of us. "Look, love, just there." He pointed about a yard or so in front of us, at the base of a large tree. I couldn't see it at first but when my eyes adjusted to the bright sun reflecting snow I finally saw it. Peaking above the foot or so of snow was a strong green stem. Attached to the stem was a flower with six large petals, each bellowing out in search of sunlight. In the middle of the flower were the long stamen (or whatever the pollen making shit was) and a deep orange-y crimson color painting the otherwise white petals in an ombre like effect. It was a lily, at least in my world that's what it was called, and I smiled at the sight. It was rare to see flowers sprouting through the snow, everyone around Haven said so and the apothecary was having a hard enough time keeping tonics and potions on hand that if it weren't for Theirry and his resource scouts they would've dried up by now. I turned towards Jansen, smiling. His wonder and excitement made the experience all the better. "It's lovely." I took his hand, placing a warm kiss on it. His smile grew to match my own.

"I knew you'd love it. I saw them the other day and thought of you, the orange red color in the center reminded me of the way the sun looks when it hits your red hair." Here he brought up a hand and pulled one of my wild curls lose and twirled in between his fingers, a smile spread across his perfect lips. My smile mirrored his. "And when you were talking to the apothecary the other day about flowers in the area you seemed so sad there were no... _lilies_?" He asked for confirmation on the word and I could tell the word sounded foreign on his tongue. I nodded my confirmation that this was the correct word and pronunciation.

"Well I don't know what a lily is but this is the first time I've ever seen Andraste's Grace with six petals, usually she blooms four or five but I haven't seen six. I thought it a sign from the maker that the worst of the winter is over and that better days are upon us and...well, and you...It hasn't been seen before you came here so I took it as a sign that you're..." He blushed, suddenly stumbling over his words and not at all like the usual confidence he had about him.

Of course, this only made him all the more endearing as I leaned toward him to kiss his lips, cutting off his stumbling words. I didn't want them, nor did I need them. It would ruin things, **ruin me,** to hear him confess anymore any further. I _didn't_ deserve this, I knew, I **don't** deserve him...I _know_ that. But he couldn't see nor understand why, and I didn't have the strength of heart to explain to him why he was foolish for allowing me a place in his life and in his heart. He was too much, I had to blink back tears as he kissed me back, pulling me down next to him on the blanket. A familiar warmth rose in my stomach as my hands sought purchase in his hair. I needed his distracting kisses to fight the fear and anxiety boiling in my stomach and heart. I needed his hands on my skin to push away the guilt rising in my conscious. I needed to use him and the added guilt just made me kiss him harder, eager for any reason to get lost in the warmth of his touch or the softness of his skin. He knew I needed him, not any of the reasons why just the blatantly obvious reason that I needed him and he was always happy to oblige. I pushed all guilt out of my head. I wouldn't think about it today, I'll worry about it tomorrow. His mouth moved down my throat and set a fire trail of kisses leading to my collarbone. I loved this. I was free from concern, from care, all that mattered at the moment was this...us. Jansen was the best distraction from my thoughts and guilt.

His hands moved under my coat and I eagerly bucked my hips towards his, seeking friction to dull the ache rising between my legs. Jansen gave and he gave so much. He gave me kisses, he gave me solace...He was too nice and I didn't think of how I was using him or his body. I wouldn't. I didn't want to. I can't. A moan escaped my lips as he pulled back and I didn't even realize I was softly whining at the lack of contact until he let out a throaty chuckle at my reaction. "Easy, Demeter, I don't think I'll be able to resist you if you keep making noises like that." Ever the gentleman, he tried to make sure we weren't caught in the act or doing something inappropriate around others. I scoffed. At the moment, and more often than not, I couldn't care less at whomever or whatever happened upon us while we were... ** _canoodling_ ** (for want of a better word without being too graphic).

He tried to argue but I cut him off. "Please, Jansen, like you want to resist me," my hand grazed the budge between his legs and he softly closed his eyes while biting his bottom lips. I loved making him react. It was rare that he let me affect him like this that I relished the opportunity and savored the moment of his physical reaction to me. "I mean honestly, why," He wouldn't let me finish as his lips captured my bottom lip and I forgot whatever it was I was about to argue. He was in control again. I don't know what twenty four (or up to twenty seven I was iffy on his exact age as was he) year old male had this much control over his libido but go fucking figure I found the one that somehow managed to orchestrate such restraint over his desires. His kiss wasn't like before, so giving and passionate. No, this kiss was giving but closed. A _stop what you're doing, love_ kind of kiss. Jansen was a master of these kinds of kisses. Even in control of the situation, as he was now, he still gave me most of what I wanted. Bless his heart.

I knew that we wouldn't be having any sexy time by the frozen waterfall. The rational part of me was happy about this, it was freezing outside after all. But other parts of me...well, they were none too please at the desperate need of pleasure release throbbing between my legs. Jansen chuckled again once he caught my pouting. "Don't be like that, love, it's freezing out here and if we get caught up I won't have time to show you what else I had planned for today." Jansen had his brilliant smile across his charming face and I conceded defeat, willing my ache to dissipate.

"Fine, what is it?" I pretended to be exasperated by his decision but he knew I was only teasing him.

His grin grew as he put his bow and a quiver in my hands. "Your hunting lesson. You said you always wanted to learn archery when you were younger, something about _in-dee-yans_ and your heritage?" He looked confident that he chose the right words but knew nothing of what they meant and I pulled him into a tight hug, once more blinking back tears at his thoughtfulness. I didn't tell him about being part (very small part) Native American (or Indian as people still refer to them) or how I always wanted to learn archery because of this. It was one night in the tavern, after several ales, that Varric asked me about my parents and I was drunk enough to spill the beans about my (obscenely large) family and then somehow race became a topic but in my drunk mind I didn't realize that Varric didn't mean _my_ world type of races, but _his_ world. Anyway, long story short is this conversation happened like a month ago in the tavern. I hadn't even realized Jansen listened to me let alone committed anything I said to memory.

"How do you remember this stuff?" I was baffled and touched by his actions. He laughed, squeezing my hand as he pulled me up. "Don't be ridiculous, love, you're a loud drunk who cannot keep a secret to save her or anyone else life." His voice was light and teasing and I gave an empty laugh at his words. Right, I was a lousy secret keeper. Damn I wish I had an ale or liquor or even elfroot or anything to settle the nerves that decided to rise in my stomach at his sentence. I smiled, pushing back the anxiety stirring as Jansen showed me proper bow grip and a good beginner's stance to shooting.

Right, here goes nothing. I took a deep breath, pulling the bow string taught like he showed me. Inhale. I had my hand by my lip, the end of the arrow mere millimeters from the corner of my mouth. I closed one eye so I could see far away and keep my aim true. (I happen to be far sighted in one eye and near sighted in the other. Don't ask me how that happens, I am just fucked up I guess. "And aim for that whole in the tree just there, slightly above the opening dip, you see what I am talking about?" He was hovering behind me and I nodded, suddenly wanting to huddle away from him.

I blinked and shook my head slightly, clearing my thoughts. No, this is Jansen. He's sweet and perfection and everything more than I deserve. So why did another voice in my brain tell me I knew everything he was trying to teach me? My body wasn't even straining to hold the bow, but I have grown strong in these past few months. I exhaled, closed my eyes, and released the bow and let the arrow fly towards its target. I didn't even bother to look and see if I had some dumb luck enough to land my target, it was my first time shooting so I would be lucky if the arrow went more than ten feet in front of me.

* * *

 _ **Author's** **Note Pt. II** : _

_Such a little filler chapter but it played out better than I planned and I wanted to stop here because the next chapter Theirry will come back and commence the closing of the breach! That will probably last a chapter, maybe two with the chapter following **that** full of premature celebration. That's when things get super exciting with Corypheus first appearance and...yknow the destruction of Haven? I'm following canon pretty closely as far as that goes, with the obvious OC plot and character that isn't NOT canon, yknow? Things will most likely stick to the game, but they might branch off around Skyhold... I haven't decided as it depends on who I let Demeter fall in love with... _

_Hope you enjoyed enough to leave a review with your thoughts!_

 _-Teresa_


	4. The Breach

**_Author's Note:_**

 _I cut the last chapter a little short because I wasn't too keen on making the entire thing a 8k or 9k chapter, and since I planned a POV change I figured it would be easier to cut off where I did, on a happy note if I could. Also, if I switch POV I plan on labeling them with a small break, it'll be obvious when you see it. I will probably switch from 3rd Limited [focusing on a single character and their inner thoughts and shit] to 3rd person Omniscient sometimes while majority of this story is told through Demeter's eyes, but for future plot reasons I decided to incorporate a wide range of POV styles. If this is annoying or makes this story illogical and hard to read please let me know so I will be able to accommodate and fix the problems. That being said, the next few chapters (with exception to the chapter celebrating the breach closing) will get increasingly dark, especially when being told from the point of view of Demeter, as I am trying to portray this story as honest to possible. This is war. Or will be when Corypheus shows up. Not all sunshine and lilies guys! That being said, I will post warnings above each chapter as to what I figure may be helpful to any reader. I love a good surprise but I do realize things can be triggered and I want to do no harm. I also want to say this story is, once again for entertainment purposes and not glorifying any of the subject matter in any way, shape, or form._

* * *

 ** _TRIGGER WARNINGS:_**

 _[this chapter contains GRAPHIC depictions of the following]_

 ** _ADDICTION AND WITHDRAW_**

 ** _PTSD_**

 ** _ALCOHOLISM [okay guys, spoiler alert but Demeter is becoming an alcoholic]_**

 _Sorry for the obscene length of the note but I hope it's appreciated._

 _Without further adue, on with the story!_

 _-Teresa_

* * *

 ** __ Third Person Limite_ _d_ _**

 _[Cullen Rutherford]_

Cullen was extremely tempted to ask Flissa, the barkeep, or anyone else who would know exactly where Fabulist has been the past few weeks. Oh sure, he's spotted her in the opposite direction a few times, always looking extremely busy or like something needed her attention had just happened to be in the completely opposite direction that he was in and/or heading. He wasn't paranoid: she was avoiding him. He wouldn't usually take it so personal, or act as if it was even a surprise or big deal if it wasn't for the fact...well if it was anyone but her. Theirry had asked him to keep an eye on her and he was doing a cock-up job of it as he'd barely managed to see her for longer than ten seconds at a time. Not to mention everywhere she went seemed to be nowhere he was entirely...welcome. Oh, sure as commander of the troops he could pretty much roam the entire encampment free as he liked but even he knew there were boundaries he shouldn't cross, everyone had established their camps and drew their lines in the sand so to speak. At the moment he was in the tavern, casually looking and asking the regulars if Fabulist had stopped by recently.

"I haven't seen her in almost a fortnight, if not longer than that Curly, I'm not sure where she's getting her ale." The slightly tipsy dwarf seemed a bit disheartened at the fellow storytelling if only slightly alcoholic human's mysterious leave of absence. His eyes were glazing over and his forehead was wrinkled due to the strain he was putting on his memory. A frown grew on his face at the pressure of fighting through his alcohol induced haze. "Sera saw her with some tall elf a few days ago. Maybe she's convinced herself she's really one of them and she'll show up with pointy ears and a grumpy disposition like Chuckles!" A hiccup and a burp let Cullen know that his interrogation of his comrade was over, as the surface dwarf would soon be singing songs with the rest of the regulars of the night. Cullen preferred leaving before they broke out in pub songs.

He didn't even want to be looking for her, not really, if it weren't for the fact that he couldn't find her he wouldn't even be wasting his time asking the local drunks. Everyone knew Fabulist liked her ale as much, if not more, than half the men at camp. He frowned, wondering- not for the first time- exactly where she was from. Sure, women drank like the rest of them but none of them showed such an...affinity for the stuff. He contemplated why she was drinking, as there was always a why...or perhaps a who. She was young, not quite as young as he was when he first became a Templar, around the age he was when the circle fell apart. But she was still in her younger years, not yet ashamed to admit her age. What could she possibly be drinking about?

He felt the familiar headache rise as a cool sweat broke out at the nape of his neck. Cullen fought the dry heave pushing from his gut and rising from the back of his throat, causing his internal organs to convulse with the strain of the action. What meager food he could stomach the smell of during one of his fits left him wanting more. He longed for the deer meat and buttery biscuits of home, even the Templar rations were better than the bland gruel he scarfed down for supper. Sending a silent prayer to the maker that he wouldn't empty his dinner in the snow, Cullen continued on his search of camp. Slowing his breathing in hopes of lowering his rapidly increasing heart rate, Cullen felt his right hand twitched, eager for the addictive release lyrium would give. But he wouldn't. He bit his bottom lip to distract his body from the withdraw symptoms. Times like this, when his withdraw was reminding him of the schedule he would be on while dosing the lyrium in his veins, Cullen would knock back and ale or two (more when the pain started in his arm) to satiate the addict side of his brain. He knew it wasn't a good habit, replacing one addiction with another but alcoholism, as far as he was concerned, was steps above lyrium addiction. And at the moment he could only deal with one addiction, the other he would just have to fix if and when he got the opportunity to do so. The more important one, his lyrium dependency, was the matter at hand and the one that besting it would make or break him. And after what happened at the circle and in Kirkwall Cullen wanted to rid himself of any magical enhancing paraphernalia.

Cullen envied those who weren't easily addicted to things, although he knew of one or two people to completely kick their lyrium habits he hadn't heard of them living long after. One man committed suicide, the memories of his apostate days haunting him to the bitter end. Another man grew too sensitive to sounds and preferred a quite life in total isolation. The last Cullen heard the man would kill anyone who trespassed on his lands, no questions asked. Most people believed the templars needed the lyrium to perform their duty, but Cullen knew better. If Seekers of Truth, warriors like Cassandra, could do the maker justice without the lyrium then he would be strong enough as well...he had to be as there wasn't any other option. Not every problem was solved with magic, he had to believe that. Demons, sure fight magic all day but a strong enough sword would slice through them enough...the hole in the sky was another matter of its own.

He frowned, running a hand through his hair as he stared up at it, the breach. It gave him chills, staring at the green circle that just felt...wrong was the basis and yet barely scratched the surface of the monstrous tear in the sky. Cullen quickened his pace as he reached his cabin, wrenching open the door before the panic could rise in his stomach. Grinding his teeth, he fought the memories rising to the surface. No. He was doing so well. But not enough. Never enough, not without the lyrium he couldn't give his all. Why was he so self righteous? Why did he think he didn't need it...he needed the lyrium. He never should've stopped taking it. Why did he in the first place?

Terror ripped through him as memories from the circle reminded him. **Screaming**. Magic _everywhere,_ so heavy in the air it was like having a wet cloth held over your face. Templars and apostates alike dead on the floor, some given mercy with a sharp and painless demise while others were still moaning. Feces and urine riddles the stone ground, pouring from terrified bodies and murdered bodies alike. Death in the air like a net keeping him pinned to the ground as the screams seemed to be fighting to drown each other out. His heart beat was pulsing through his body, racing as his breathing hitched while the sobs wracking his chest. No tears fell, just a gut wrenching cry from a beaten man lost to the cage of his trauma. Cullen remembered the day the circle went up in flames, literally, as if it were happening all over again. He no longer saw the walls of his room but instead the scorched bodies of his friends and fellow templars as well as his mage charges, some of their faces ruined beyond recognition. He never thought their circle was one of the bad ones he heard rumors about until _that_ day occurred and his view of the world was forever tainted with the removal of his rose colored classes.

A knock on his door brought him from the dark memories and he didn't realize he was covered in sweat til he brought a hand to his face to steady his breathing. After a moment of deep breathing and ancient Templar relaxation techniques, he found his center and locked his memories back in their cage. "It's open." His voice remained calm as he schooled his face to a blank expression. He was getting better at it these days, with every practice he was able to calm himself quickly.

Jim, a messenger scout, came through the door with a bundle in his hands. "Latest research from the Templar scouts, as well as some recon from the Frostback- still not making it far without drawing too much aggression from the local Avaar and we can't risk any more political scandal or war as of yet. Also some things from The Storm Coast, though The Chargers pretty much summed up the beach in their reports. ' _Rain and more rain, dragon and giants_.' I don't know how much more there will be there. Harding has the important bits to pass to the Nightingale. Also, message from the herald just delivered by crow. He says for you, only, Ser." Jim was fast talking and Cullen was thankful he'd been working with the man for a while or he knew he'd get lost in his speech. He had no idea how his mouth managed to move that fast while speaking. Maybe Cullen had suffered too many head injuries to ever think and speak that efficiently. Cullen simply nodded to the man, accepting the bundle and bid his friend goodnight.

Jim left, closing the door behind him leaving Cullen to his least favorite part of being in charge: paperwork. It was mundane enough, scout reports about rifts occurring here and there with the occasional bandit. There were a few incidents he would need to mark on the map at the war table, bridges that needed building or nobles that required a finer touch (ie Lady Josephine) to be dealt with or a swift end if necessary (ie Lady Leliana) while there were even a few reports that he was sure the soldiers could handle, even some of the greener ones should be able to swing a simple resource mission. It always gave the boys something to look forward to and Cullen knew that a soldier, a true one, knew that every job needed to be done even if you were over qualified it was better than being sent in under qualified. After making note of what needed to be done, Cullen unraveled Theirry's correspondence. No news from the Hinterlands, other than the obvious bear attacking camp in the middle of the night but nothing Harding's scouts couldn't handle. He would also be heading back, with a few new agents in tow. The final line of the letter caught Cullen's attention more than anything else.

 _...and with the additional templars I recruited we should have more than enough power to do something about that eyesore in the sky. Now or never and I always chose now, but you know that. No more excuses, I want to finish this as soon as we settle back to camp. Alert the others and prepare everyone. I don't know what will happen when we assault the breach._

So this was it? As soon as Theirry arrived they would ascend on the now ruined conclave and fight the...hole in the heavens. At least according to the apostate, Solas, the first rift that appeared should be the one most connected to the breach and undoing that should, in theory, close the breach. Cullen sighed, once more running a hand through his already tangled blonde curls. All of this riding on theories and magics and a human noble who was in the wrong place at the wrong time...or rather the right place at the exact time? "Maker help us all." Cullen whispered a raspy prayer, not able to keep the desperation out of his pleas to the heavens.

* * *

 ** __ Third Person Limited_** _

 _[Theirry Trevelyan]_

Theirry wasn't nervous. No, he was **absolutely** _petrified_. But like any capable leader, he wore a mask of confidence that could inspire his troops to do the unthinkable. And at the moment the most unfathomable thing that has happened since Andraste was currently upon them. The hole in the sky, the tear of reality, was something that sounded like ancient legends...a part of the chant that didn't quite get passed down or written. It was odd, living during such times. Theirry imagined that the people, common folk and people not involved, who were alive when Andraste was probably thought it was a story if they didn't meet her themselves. There's no possible way one person, one entity, could cause such a impact upon the world...right?

Theirry used to think so. He believed the time for chaos and destruction was past Thedas. Sure there was war and mayhem but magical tears in the sky? He was out of his depths and hated the sinking feeling he got in his stomach that told him it wouldn't end here. They still didn't know what or how the apostates (because it had to be a mage, it always came back to fucking magic and Theirry hated it) managed to rip the world open and cause the rifts to appear. But that wasn't the problem at head and all the greatest minds of their world could spend forever asking why but that wouldn't change what they needed to do now; they needed to seal the hole before they could even think about how to go about peace between the templars and the mages. This war wouldn't be so bad if there weren't mages and templars taking out their frustrations on the common folk. Theirry bit his lip as he dismounted his horse, trying to center his thoughts. He never liked casualties, to Theirry their deaths were avoidable...or they weren't doing enough to save people. Soldiers knew their place, they were expendable but civilians, regular citizens that got caught in the crossfire...it left a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of all the lives that were lost and he wondered just how many more, what the world would lose, before all of this was over.

"Herald! We were just going over instructions with the troops, Lady Nightingale has asked every able bodied person to be on stand by when we close the rift. I've gathered your party, they await you in the war room for further orders. Cullen has the templars and he's making sure they're fit for battle, Ser." Theirry nodded briefly at the rundown from the scout, who made it back to Haven a few hours before his own party did. Theirry searched the camp, taking note of the distinct difference between now and when he left three weeks ago.

Everyone was rushing around with purpose, more so than their usual day to day activities. There was a hurried feeling in the air, making Theirry feel slightly anxious but also extremely purposeful. Everyone was doing their job, now it was up to him to make sure their effort was noticed and worth it. Their faith in him, in the strange mark on his hand, weighed heavier than any burden he'd ever experienced. But he was made for this, raised for this, sent to the conclave by the maker for this. There was no doubt in Theirry's mind that he was the only person on Thedas who could fix this problem, and he knew he'd be able to do it with the might of the inquisition behind him. Pride surged his veins as he headed towards his cabin, eager to shed his old clothes for the new armor the blacksmith crafted for him. An occasion like this deserved something special, and he was given the perfect suit to fix the word in.

Theirry arrived at the war table dressed in full armor, keeping his helmet off until they headed toward their soon to be battlefield. Lady Josephine started to speak, but Theirry wasn't focusing on what she was saying. He knew his role in this: close the rift without or at least before dying. It was a simple assignment if not impossibly daunting task. His mark would work on the first rift, right? He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment and rubbing a gloved hand over his face as he let go of the tension building in his muscles. He couldn't afford to screw this up, not when everything was riding on him, hinging on the glowing green mark on his right hand. It would be devastating if he fucked it all up due to a muscle cramping or locking up in the middle of the battle. There would be a battle, Theirry knew that. Each rift he's closed thus far has yielded demons, each getting stronger by the moment and he knew it was because the longer the original rift, and the hole, was open the more and easier access the demons and spirits beyond the veil had and the quicker they could just pop on over to their side. This rift would be their most challenging one so it was vital they had every able bodied individual on hand in the event the main attack was overwhelmed and chaos ensued.

Theirry suddenly stopped worrying about all of the things that could go wrong, knowing that as long as he did what he needed and everyone was in the right position they would succeed, they had to. Failure wasn't an option so he couldn't even consider it. All of his stress and anxiety disappeared as he heard a voice in his head whisper, _"Don't think about what bad could happen, work on making everyone succeed. You won't fail if people die, they know that. Mom and Dad would be proud, Jessie, Laura and the twins would be too."_ Theirry didn't know where the thought came from but he felt confident and less worried than he was before.

Everyone was staring at him so he straightened his posture and became the embodiment of a man with a purpose in life, because he knew his without a doubt in his heart. "Right, any questions?" His tone was sure, steady, and he gazed about the room examining his comrades.

The room remained silent as Theirry took a moment to gaze at his companions. The Iron Bull looked ready for war, Sera looked ready to stab something and run, Dorian looked bored with the theatrics but anxious to get down to business, Cole was nowhere to be found but Theirry knew he would be in the thick of battle with his daggers when he was needed. Theirry nodded his head and, which a deep breath, picked up his helm and headed out the door and onward unto battle.

* * *

 _ **Yet Another Note:**_

 _I suck at battle scenes and maintaining a frequency to updating._

 _Let that be known. So I left it like this because I feel like if I continued it, it would be a slow grave I'd be digging with unnecessary shit filling it up. So, there...Don't hate me?_

 _Next chapter we fall back into Demeter's head, and we'll see what happens to Haven through the eyes of someone on the bottom tier of the Inquisition._

 _So stick around and I promise it won't be entirely sucktackular!_

 _-teresa_


	5. Everything is on Fire

_**Author's Note:**_

 _A few people have asked about Jansen and his fate in my story. To be honest guys I wrestled with this decision for a while. He wasn't even a character that I intended to write until my fingers literally made him appear one sentence and shit sort of jumbled out from there. With that being said, it's probably going to be the same way his fate is determined. I have three different plots, I guess, that I have written in my head for him so we all shall see which makes the final draft._

 _ **TRIGGER WARNINGS:**_

 _ **There will be death, possibly graphic. And destruction. I wanted to be as real and brutal with this as possible. Demeter hasn't experienced a devastating event like this. This is Haven's demise. Also, it's part one of part two. I know I have been away for a while. I moved and just now managed to actually get caught up with bills that I could buy me this cheap chromebook that's cute and red and white and amazing. So I'd like to treat whomever is still reading this with the next addition to the story. The continued part of Haven's demise will be in the next chapter. And now that I can type stuff on a laptop instead of my phone updating will, hopefully, be smoother from here on out.**_

 _ **First Person**_

 _[Demeter]_

I don't even think there is an accurate way to describe the exact thought process I felt as I watched Theirry and his battle-ready comrades march on the breach. I suppose this would be a fabulous time to be multilingual because sometimes, in fact at most times, the basic English language isn't poetic or accurate enough to succinctly describe thoughts or emotions. It's too generic, run down, dumbed down for the lowest common denominator that we've (as English speaking people) have lost the beauty of language. It's sad I guess, but I'm just distracting my thoughts from what's really been weighing heavy on my mind. I'm also slightly anxious, of course, somehow confident because I've played this in the game and currently was hoping and praying that (in this universe) it was an easy play-through with cheating mods or something that would allow the heroes to come out relatively unscathed, or at least they'd come back. Of course, then my inner-turmoil would take a turn for the worse as I know what happens next. In your heart shall burn... _Haven_.

It's been three hours...or maybe more... or could've been ten minutes, I suck at telling time without a watch (I don't even have a sun dial, as if it'd work in this universe- maybe Thedas isn't positioned like back home and the Sun would say it's noon but really it's four past...). I have been busying myself with shepherding the children to the chantry, I want them locked in there for as long as possible. Luckily it's nearing sundown and no one is really arguing with me about suddenly taking initiative with the elven kids (there aren't many other kids at camp and the non elven ones are with their families anyways). It is widely known that, while Jansen just had a newborn nephew, I avoided kids like the plague. I didn't want anything to do with prepubescents. I can't deal with them. I can't have kids, I was told so a few years ago so being around the baby, Andrew, and the happy elven faces brings an ache to my heart that I'm unable to shake. I don't even know if I want them, I know I don't know but down the road...Well, that decision was made long before I had any say in it...

"Demeter, stop packing, there's no point." I feel a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist and I tense. I wish he would just listen. Jansen has been trying to get me to relax long before the herald left and it hasn't been working (obviously). I moved on from bossing kids around to (politely) suggesting that we should start breaking down camp because, when we seal the breach, we may not be needed and the less work we had to do down the road the better. In actuality, I just wanted to make sure enough people and enough supplies would last the trip to Skyhold.

I shook Jansen off and avoided looking at his face. I didn't want to look at the hurt expression I knew would be on his face. Until now I was more than happy to be on the receptive end of his endless affection, but I couldn't...not tonight. Not when so much death and pain was about to devastate their world. I took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to ask Jansen what I've been avoiding all day. I spun around, gripping the basket so tightly my knuckles turned a bright shade of white and my forearms started shaking. My hands, still dried out from eczema, started cracking and bleeding slowly. It stung but I relished the pain, focusing on the bitter sting of cracking skin instead of my inner turmoil. I had an herbal paste for the skin condition, given to me by an elf after she learned I helped Dani deliver Andrew, but I forgot to use it most days as I have gotten used to the dry and flaky skin. I know, it's not pretty and when I forgot to wear gloves on laundry day my skin was a dermatologists science project or something because let me tell you google images has nothing on my skin during the winter here.

That being said, I was currently staring at one of the few places on my arms that lacked blemishes from my condition, trying to piece my thoughts together so I'd be able to get actual words out.

Jansen looked taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor, even more so than he's been put off all day by my mood, and he opened his mouth to speak but I quickly shook my head before I lost all my nerve. "Jansen you need to leave. Take your sister and her baby and go, as far away from Haven. Somewhere north of here, or south, I don't care just go." I couldn't warn all of them, I know that. I'm not naive enough to think I can just tell Cullen and Theirry that Corephyus is coming and going to fuck this place up and everything will be magicked better. But Jansen, he's innocent. He's a casualty that I can save, that doesn't have to be lost in the chaos of war. Maybe its selfish, okay I know it is. Wanting to save one life at possibly the cost of others (or three lives at the cost of three) but maybe they survived in the game, or maybe they never existed until I did and they were made up for my (minor) plot purposes and this (surviving with me) is their purpose.

I shook the thoughts from my head, biting back tears as Jansen started to walk towards me. I backed into the wall, struggling to get away from him. I couldn't let him ruin my resolve, he'd break down my walls in an instant. He was such a nice guy and I would ruin him. I didn't deserve him. He's the type of idiotic hero who'd take a shovel to one of Corephyus's mages and end up a frog or something equally avoidable. Jansen was a nice guy, not a legendary hero but a guy who did the right thing without a second thought. He'd give you the shirt off his back in the midst of this snow. He's the type of person who checks to make sure I am asleep before he allows himself to sleep.

Despite his disposition as a slave and any other struggle he had growing up, he put others (strangers like me) first and I knew, in my heart, that it would ruin him. The look on his face, in his eyes, told me that I'd ruin him. I felt my heart drop to my gut as I shook my head again, letting one tear fall. I couldn't start crying now or else I'd never stop. I always said nice guys finish last. I never went for the nice guy. I built relationships I knew weren't going to last. Call me crazy but I sought the guy I knew would cheat or leave me just so I wouldn't have to get hurt in the end. I didn't want to fall in love so I avoided people I'd fall in love with. Peopld like Jansen, who'd give me his seat on the Titanic.

"Demeter, what are you on about?" His accented voice sounded heartbreakingly confused. He didn't know what was to come because some stupid part of me knew he'd not be able to understand it. I let another tear fall, turning my gaze from his questioning eyes.

I took another deep breath and prayed to a god, any and all I didn't believe in, that he'd just listen to me. "Look, I don't have time to explain but this war, this hell, isn't over, not by a long shot. I know I sound crazy, maybe everyone is right about me but you have to believe me when I say Haven won't be safe for much longer. I-" I didn't get to finish my sentence because I was interrupted by a loud noise outside the cabin. Jansen ran out the door before I could stop him and I dropped the basket of healing herbs to chase after him.

Cheering. I could make it out in the distance and it only grew louder by the moment. They did it then, Theirry sealed the breach. It shouldn't be long now til hell and the devil come knocking on our door.

I swallowed my tenth or fifteenth shot of some murky brown liquid that reminded me of spiced rum back home. I can't save them all, I thought bitterly as I wiped my mouth. I was in the tavern, the one place I knew I could avoid Jansen. Varric was telling the story of the pride demon's fall by our savior and Herald's hand, Theirry who was sitting beside me (almost going shot for shot with me). Sera was animatedly reenacting the battle, with Iron Bull playing the part of the demon while Sera pretended to be Theirry. It was a great source of entertainment that I would have loved any other day...except today.

No one commented on my sudden appearance in the tavern. Flissa smiled warmly at me and poured me a double while Theirry handed me my next eight or so shots, he said I had some catching up to do.

I smiled bitterly at my glass, blocking out the raucous tavern patrons. Flissa poured me two more shots and I downed them one after the other. The ache in my chest became dulled after the first five or so shots and my anxiety about the impending attack has more or less diminished with each sequential shot of liquor. What else am I supposed to do when I could be facing what could very well be my last night in Thedas? If not mine than many, many others? I should've done something. I should've told Cullen or Theirry or Leliana to break down the camp, send people home because we did it, we won! The breach was sealed so all we needed to do was pack up and leave.

Except I'm a chicken shit. I wanted to save them all. Each child, women, slave, man, warrior...herald. I blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling. I glanced to my left, at Theirry who was smiling at something Flissa had said and was throwing back another shot with his right arm, the one marked by the orb (but he doesn't even know it yet). I wondered how he'll be able to cope with no longer being able to wield his two handed sword. Will he be able to fight? I know the desire to will still be there, Theirry was a fighter accustomed to being the best and winning. Thanks to his noble upbringing, he didn't shy away from what he wanted and what he wanted was to be the pinnacle of the best.

And I hoped he would still be the best after Solas...well, at least Theirry won't have to die.

I never could handle death very well.

"Fabulist, I think maybe you've had enough." Theirry commented from beside me after he saw the sway in my posture as I tried sitting up straight on my stool. It was impossible at the moment, the alcohol in my veins causing me to sway ever so slightly. I frowned at him, gesturing to the row of empty glasses in front of him. Everything was like a bubble around me and what wasn't inside my bubble was muffled in my ears. Theirry was inside my bubble. I grinned at the thought. He would probably feel very good inside my bubble.

I glanced at his dimpled cheeks. Damn, he looked just like Alfred Enoch. You know, Dean Thomas from Harry Potter or the guy from How To Get Away with Murder. I sort of swooned at the sight of his dimpled smile. Then I frowned, thinking of Jansen and his wonderful blue or green or blue and green eyes and felt a flash of anger in my gut.

"I'll stop when you stop, my good sir." I bit my lip to prevent a hiccup and grinned at Theirry, knowing it wouldn't reach my eyes. "Besides, we're celebrating your victory." My words may have been slightly run together and heavy with my southern accent but Theirry seemed to understand as he shook his head. His dimpled smile met my fake grin, he didn't seem to know the difference or was too drunk to decipher my facial features. Or maybe I was...am too drunk to differentiate his knowing to him pretending not to notice...

"I'll find someone to escort you back to your tent, I'm cutting you off. I don't care if you think you've the tolerance of a quinari, you're drunk and clearly not celebrating. I only allow happy drinking." Theirry declared as he jumped from his stool, gripping the bar for support to prevent from falling. He too was drunk but, according to his logic, he was happy drunk. Damn, maybe he was more perceptive than I thought. Of course, I had grown used to no one paying attention to (or at the very least commenting) on my drinking habit (thanks to the past few weeks of drinking with the elves) that I'd nearly forgotten Theirry and Cullen and their hero complexes.

I rolled my eyes. Too many people in this world are wasting their time trying to save me. "Whatever." I waved him away, not even bothering to argue, as I was finding it harder and harder to string together coherent thought. I didn't want to argue, it wouldn't be a good argument because the only thing I could think about was my feather bedroll and how warm my tent would be when I arrived. It was always nice and toasty and I had to find the mage who charmed it for me, he really was a saint. Or was it a she? Well whoever the fuck managed to keep my tent warm in the dead of winter deserved orgasms.

Don't judge me. Personally, I feel like orgasms are the best thing that can happen to a human being so that everyone I feel deserves an orgasm...at least once a day. Trust me when I say the mages and templars would probably not have been at such warring states if everyone got their orgasm on.

"AH! Please, escort Miss Fabulist to her quarters. She's absolutely tossed." My lips curled into a face of disgust at the term. What a terrible expression. Theirry was talking to someone behind me and I didn't bother turning to look at who my escort was, my gut already knew who it was and it wouldn't allow me to spin so fast in the first place.

A strong arm helped me stand and I, against the pride of my wilting ego, latched onto his elbow for support. It seemed I always got myself into these situations. I huffed, struggling to maintain some dignity as I stood on slightly wobbling legs, like a newborn calf standing for the first time. Of course, I'd have fallen if it weren't for my escort.

"Make sure she gets some water," Theirry was now starting to hiccup, the smug bastard, "and then rest, even if you've got to stay there all night. Dismissed, commander." Theirry ordered and I rolled my eyes but held onto Cullen's arm tighter, getting slightly dizzy from the eye roll.

We exited the pub quietly, neither wanting to speak first. I didn't even feel the temperature change as we left the building into the lightly falling snow. I guess I was too drunk to really feel it. Oh well, that works for me. "You're taking orders from him now?" I broke the silence first, not wanting my thoughts to wonder even if I was buzzed.

Cullen shrugged. "He's been more or less leading us for some time now, I suppose it's only a matter of time before he'll officially become our Inquisitor." Cullen answered and I nodded solemnly. Like I wanted to be reminded of what happens next, thank you Cullen.

"Skyhold." I mumble but it probably sounded more like shkymold or something similar and Cullen did a side glance at me, clearly confused by the remark but I didn't elaborate, suddenly aware that no one knew what I knew. Although it was becoming harder and harder for me to keep that secret. Why was I keeping it a secret? Why couldn't I tell Cullen right now what I knew? Surely I'd be able to save more than a few lives...

Rejection. I know, it's because I'm a coward and scared of rejection and the idea that these people (whom I've begun to care for even more so over the past few months of really knowing them) blatantly dismissing me caused an ache in my chest I couldn't handle.

I suppose I could save more people if I just stayed and played defense. I could tell Rodderick to lead people to safety through the chantry immediately instead of waiting for him to get hurt and remember.

 _'It's not your job to save them all. Some will die but that's okay, and it won't be your fault. This is what they want and there isn't anything else you can do to prevent it. Just help where you can.'_

The thought appeared in my head and I don't know where it came from, sounding in a voice that wasn't my own. I looked around wildly, unsure if I'd heard a person speaking or if a thought was placed in my head. An annoying tug at my brain told me I knew what was happening and that I had the answer, it was on the tip of my tongue but just beyond my grasp.

I ignored the suspicion and focused on what the thought left. I felt a comforting sensation buzz throughout my body but I attributed it to the alcohol in my system. I felt lighter, less bogged down by the impending doom and I turned to Cullen, feeling happy drunk all of a sudden. "How come you always end up taking me to bed, Commander?" I asked brazenly and smiled victoriously at the blush that appeared on his cheeks and his stammering response. I loved making him, and most people, squirm.

* * *

It was too warm. The feeling woke me up from my drunken sleep. I had no memory of how I managed to be tucked away in my bedroll when I knew that chaos would soon be upon us. But I guess, if you have enough alcohol/drugs in your system your mind will shut off your anxieties.

This is why people develop addictions.

I heard a scream that sent a chill through my spine. My heart dropped. No. _Haven_. It was happening and there isn't anything I did to prevent this, to prevent their deaths...

I jumped out of bed as fast as I was able to, considering I was stilled well under the influence and wrapped in a blanket while still fully dressed- shoes and all. I ran out my tent, which was starting to feel like a sauna. The blast of cold air sent chills through to my bones, even through the layers of clothing I was protecting myself with.

Another scream from my left has me running blindly. Fire. Everywhere. I can't tell where I'm going, the smoke in the air is getting thicker by the moment. But I breathe through it, adrenaline pumping in my veins. I have to help. I don't know what I will do, what I can do, but I have to do something. I cannot just sit idly by and watch Haven go up in smoke.

I reach a person, one of the elven laborers, trapped under a pile of wood, a ceiling caved in, and I rush to help. He's freaking out. I don't blame him, I would be too. But I'm not. I'm cool, calm, and the only thing I can do is focus on helping this poor man. I don't see the blood covering his legs, I ignore the bone protruding through his shin, I can't do anything about that. I can't stop and see the bleak reality that will be the rest of this slave's life. If I stop, I'll break just like the rest of Haven is.

* * *

He died two minutes after I freed him from the burning building. It wasn't pretty. His skin was charred, blackened from the fire and his lungs full of smoke. His leg was broken and there wasn't anything I could do but be with him. He asked me to pray to Sylaise for him, for his family and asked me to look after them for him. I told him I would.

It was Andrew's father. The some month old baby was now fatherless.

I stood tall as I left his side. I didn't let the tears come because if they started I wasn't strong enough to stop them. I wouldn't let myself think of young Dani, a new mother and now without a husband and lover. Without the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. I refused to think about it.

Another scream caught my attention and I raced towards it, not longer bothered by the smoke in the air or the sounds of fighting far off. The battle could have been going on for hours, days, weeks, or minutes. Time wasn't working properly anymore. I spent countless moments witnessing the end of someone's life. Time is funny after something like that, not to mention being in a town that was currently being destroyed by a dark spawn magister.

This time it was one of the older, middle aged washing women who hated me because I was a 'shem'. But I didn't let that stop me from helping her. I accepted her plea for help, pushing aside her previous racism towards me. As I supported half her weight, her ankle was sprained if not broken, I didn't think about all the lives I was losing because I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, or one of the heroes. I just focused on helping the old bitch out because that's the only thing that kept my back straight and my feet moving.

I led her to the chantry, the fighting hadn't gotten that far yet, and told her to find Rodderick, the part of my brain that remembered the plot of the game was still working. She thanked me and blessed some elven god or goddess and told me to be safe.

I ignored her well wishes to non-existent beings and let her feel better about herself. Because that's what you do in situation like this. You help the person in need and right now she needed to believe in her gods and goddesses more than I ever had or would need to.

* * *

There was a haze that pushed me through the rest of the night. Almost like an out of body experience, I ignored the bodies, or what was left of them, that scattered the remnants of the town. I couldn't let any strong emotions overwhelm me or I'd be lost, like the rest of them.

Luck, or something more divine because at this point in time I might be praying myself, was guiding me.


End file.
